Destiny’s Curse
by The Egyptian Lovers
Summary: Complete. Erik's past comes back to haunt him as a mysterious masked figure begins a reign of terror in Paris... see profile for more information.
1. Homecomings

**Hardback copies of the book are now available to order from Lulu. com! Just search for Destiny's Curse. **

**Disclaimer: Characters that I do not own are: Erik, Christine, Meg, Madame Giry, Daroga/Nadir, Andre, Firmin. **

_**A Note to Readers:**_** This is not a story you can skip to the last chapter on and understand, if you do this you will be EXTREMELY confused. I know it shouldnt need to be said, but i know people that do this when reading a book/fanfic so I just thought i would say it. Anyway, enjoy this sequel to 'What Lies Beneath' (if you have not read 'What Lies Beneath' then do not worry, but you will understand this story more easily in places if you do). Enjoy the story...! **

**Destiny's Curse**

Chapter 1- Homecomings

A carriage pulled into a driveway and stopped in front of a rather large thatched cottage. "Whoa!" The coachman called and the horse pulling the carriage came to a halt. He jumped down and went to open the carriage door.

"Merci." The passenger thanked the coachman as he stepped out. The passenger was wearing a grey linen suit with a long black overcoat. He had very dark brown, almost black, hair which was slicked back and he had bright emerald eyes which stood out against his dark hair.

The young man in the grey suit reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet.

"How much do I owe you?" He asked.

"15 francs please sir." The coachman replied.

"Here you are. Thank you for the trip." The young man said gratefully, handing him 15 francs, which the coachman pocketed and then went to climb back onto the carriage.

As it pulled away the man let out a sigh and walked up to the door, removing a key from his pocket, putting it in the lock and turning it.

"Mother? Father? I'm home." A voice called into the house as the front door was opened.

"Bonjour Jacob." A female voice replied. "How did it go? Did you get the job?"

The 18-year-old boy took off his overcoat and hat and hung them up. Turning around, he saw the person to whom the voice belonged standing in front of him.

"Bonjour Caroline." He said, giving his sister a hug.

Caroline was Jacob's age. She was wearing a long white dress, her hair was a deep brown, long and wavy and her eyes were a deep sapphire blue, which always gave a warm and friendly look.

"So did you get the job?" She asked him again excitedly.

Jacob chuckled. "I will tell you all about it later, are mother and father in?"

"Well I think mother went out for a walk, and father was playing his piano last time I heard."

"Just as always. So what are you doing here? I didn't expect you to be back home." He asked her curiously.

"Well I was coming to pay a visit, we have been given a day off from practicing our performance and Zurie felt a bit under the weather, so she was sent home and I'm filling in for her as I'm her understudy." Caroline explained.

"So…" She continued. "How did my brother get on? Did you get the job or not?"

_God she is persistent, well I had better tell her or she will be annoying me for ages._ "Alright Carrie, I got the job."

Carrie squealed and threw her arms around her brother. "Oh mother and father will be so pleased, oh well done!"

"I will tell all of you about it tonight." Jacob replied.

"You mean tell us how your interview went and what your job consists of?" A deep voice came from a doorway. It was Erik.

"Yes father, Jake got the job. Isn't that great news?" Carrie cut in.

The figure from the doorway emerged, he was dressed in black, his hair was slicked back and he had a toned build.

"Indeed, congratulations son. Your mother is going to be very proud." He walked up to Jacob and embraced him.

"Merci father" Jake said.

"Well I dare say we have a bit of catching up to do. Come on through both of you." With that the man turned and headed off to a door on the left, his son and daughter following him.

"So do you know how long mother is going to be?" Jake enquired.

"She went off with Meg for a walk. I have no idea how long she will be but I hope she will return home shortly. She will want to know how you are Jacob." He replied.

They entered the living room and sat down. However Carrie quickly got up again. "Sorry, would you both like some tea or a bite to eat? Jake you must be tired from your journey, I'm sorry."

Jake smiled. "It's alright Carrie, but a cup of tea would be nice thank you."

"What about you father?" Carrie asked. "Would you like anything?"

"No, I am fine, but could you feed the cats please?" He requested.

"Yes of course father." She replied and went out of the door, leaving her brother and father to talk.

Carrie boiled the kettle, and then went to place some food in the cats' bowls.

"Porsche! Toulouse! Berlioz! Minouche!" She called. Sure enough four black cats came streaking into the kitchen, heading straight for the bowls.

The kettle boiled. Carrie poured the tea out for her brother and then she heard a door open and two voices chatting.

She headed out toward the front door. "Hello, Mother, Meg, how was your walk?" Carrie asked.

"Hello Carrie." The woman who looked exactly like her but an older version replied giving her a gentle embrace.

"Oh, Jake is home, he is in the living room with father The kettle has just boiled, would either of you like a cup of tea or coffee?"

"Oh, a coffee sounds very nice, thank you." Meg, who was slightly shorter than Carrie's mother, Christine, replied.

"I will have the same if that's alright with you?" Christine said.

"Yes, it's fine, I will bring the drinks out in a moment." Carrie replied and headed back into the kitchen.

"Well as long as you're happy with this job, then that's all that matters." Erik said cheerfully.

"I am happy with it father, I start in a week and I don't regret it."

Christine and Meg opened the door and entered the living room. "Jacob!" Christine cried. Jake stood up and threw his arms around his mother.

"Hello mother." He whispered as he was squeezed tightly. "Are you alright?"

"Oh, I'm fine, thank you." Christine replied.

"What about you Meg? You seem to be keeping well." Jacob asked Meg as Christine let go of him.

"Oh I'm very well thank you Jacob, Michel asks after you often." Meg replied.

Michel was Meg and Byron's son, and he was the same age as both Carrie and Jake and grew up with them. Recently he had gone off to work in a factory and so rarely saw them.

"Tell him I hope to see him soon." Jacob replied.

"You must come over to dinner sometime, both you and Carrie." Meg said politely.

Christine walked over and took a seat by Erik while Meg and Jake sat down on the other sofa opposite.

"So what happened?" Christine asked.

"Well they simply asked me a few questions and I got the job, apparently they were very pleased with my résumé." Jake told his parents and Meg.

"Well as long as you're happy then we are too." Christine told her son proudly, glancing at Erik and wanting him to show his support.

Erik didn't say anything just gave a polite nod to show that he agreed. He had already told Jake he was pleased for him. He didn't feel he needed to say it again.

At that point Carrie came in carrying one of the silver trays with three cups, a cute china teapot and a selection of homemade biscuits, which she had made earlier, on it. She set the tray down on a table nearby and handed Meg and her mother a cup while she let the tea cool down.

"Before you say anything father…" She said as she gave Meg her cup. "…the cats are fed."

Erik smiled and chuckled at his daughter, she could read him like a book.

"I know you have. That's why they are not in here yowling at us to be fed." He replied, still chuckling.

The four cats were the Grand kittens of a cat also called Porsche that he had rescued as a kitten around twenty years ago. There were four black cats, two females and two males, one cat belonging to each member of the Daae–Destler family.

Porsche was the first-born of the litter and was Erik's cat. Toulouse belonged to Christine. Berlioz was Jake's cat and Minouche, which meant 'little one', belonged to Carrie.

Jake turned to face his sister. "So how are things at the Opera Populaire?"

"Oh… they are good, they are good, actually I heard something rather interesting about the Opera Populaire before it was set on fire." She said in a rather mysterious way.

Jake leaned forward a bit. "Intrigue me."

All three of the adults looked very worried, Erik especially. He had never wanted them to find out. They would find out he was a murderer, and might even turn against him. Both Jake and Carrie knew that their mother used to sing in the Opera Populaire, and had left after the fire but they had never explained the full story to either of them.

They can't possibly know that it is me. Surely Carrie has only heard that I used to wear a mask, but I have not done so for the past eighteen years. I cannot go back to that life, for the love of my darling wife and my two children, I cannot go back…

"Well…" Began Carrie, but before she could say another word there was a loud smash.

Everyone in the room turned to see what the source of the noise was. Erik had knocked his saucer to the floor. Carrie hurried over to clean up the mess. Jake looked at his father, very concerned.

"Caught it with my elbow." Erik explained to the silent spectators, not entirely sure if Jake and Carrie were going to believe this.

Christine and Meg understood fully why he had done this. The small distraction seemed to have done the trick. Carrie did not say another word about the 'Interesting' thing she had heard about the Populaire. To be sure that he was safe however, Erik decided to try and change the subject.

"What are you actually doing in your job?" Erik thought that getting back to this unsolved mystery would be wiser than waiting for Carrie to resume hers.

Jake did not answer immediately. He thought for a moment, as though choosing his words very carefully. "Well… it varies, mainly contract work apparently so I will be… busy." Erik did not seem to be completely satisfied with this answer. "The pay is excellent though."

These final words seemed to enlighten Erik somewhat. He never has been able to give a simple straight answer.

"Enough about me." Jake chimed, apparently trying to swiftly change the subject. "How have you been getting on?"

His question seemed to be aimed at both Christine and Erik. "Just looking after the house mainly… it feels so empty with you two gone." Christine answered.

Carrie suddenly looked puzzled. "Father… How did you get the money to afford this place?"

This thought had never crossed her mind before. She had always assumed that her father had been in a very good job. She knew of course that her mother performed at the Populaire, but that could not possibly be enough money to afford the house and its furnishings.

Erik however, was prepared for this question. "Family inheritance, my mother died a long time ago and I was left all of her money."

Carrie and Jake both believed this. Erik met Christine's eyes, and he could tell what she was thinking.

That was the worst lie you have ever told.

This was true. Erik's mother would not have left him anything even if it had been her true love's dying wish.

Jake and Carrie started talking. Erik was not really listening, however, he could see Meg having a silent laughing fit out of the corner of his eye and he had no doubt that it was about what he had just said. Years back this would have angered Erik, but it was amazing how things changed over eighteen years, which was roughly how long it was since the fateful day of 'Don Juan Triumphant'.

Erik and Christine's children had never heard of 'Don Juan', and Erik very much wanted it to stay that way. They knew, of course, that he was a composer. In fact he had written much more over the past eighteen years. Erik could not help thinking however, that Don Juan was no more than a mistake.

Without realizing he was doing it, Erik began to massage his right hand with his left. If there was one question he could not stand hearing it was 'Why do you wear a glove on your right hand?' If he were to answer this, it would no doubt lead to many awkward questions.

The truth was that the wound that had been left by the shot had not healed properly. The doctor that had treated Erik had told him it would heal fine, but he was wrong. Erik's right hand had been infected. It did not look too bad but the pain it sometimes caused him was unbearable.

Erik suddenly noticed that all eyes were on him. He stopped rubbing his hand at once. Christine decided to break the silence.

"Perhaps it is best that we all get some sleep." Jake looked over at the clock on the wall. He had not noticed just how late it was.

"I agree." Said Meg, walking over to Christine. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow Meg." She turned and left. Erik got to his feet and made his way out of the room, leaving Carrie, Jake and Christine together.

"Mother…" Began Carrie, timidly, "…I know you don't like us asking, but what is…"

"It does not matter." Christine cut her off, before she had a chance to even finish her question.

Jake decided to join in. "If it does not matter, then why not tell us?"

Christine did not answer, she simply turned and left.

"Mother!" Both Carrie and Jake called out to her, but she ignored them.

The two of them just stood there for a moment. Both were trying to work out the same thing. Jake was the first to give up.

"Goodnight Carrie, sleep well." He said, as he turned and left, heading for his old room.

Carrie did not answer him. She sat down in one of the armchairs by the unlit fireplace, staring into space, thinking…

"Very good Caroline. Alright everyone, take a five minute break." Called the conductor, Jean-Michel LeRoi.

Carrie was grateful to hear these words. She could not believe how difficult this Opera was. Though she was sure that Zurie would have no problem with it.

"Hey Carrie… CARRIE!" Andrea, one of the older dancers was rushing over to her.

"Hello Andrea." She said, as her friend reached her.

Andrea was very pleased to see Carrie. She did not usually get the opportunity as she was only an understudy. The five minutes' break that they had soon turned to ten, then to fifteen. Wondering why they had not resumed rehearsals, Carrie looked over at Jean. The two managers were talking to him.

Carrie could not believe that Gilles André and Richard Firmin were still managing the Populaire. From what she had heard, they had been doing so for over 20 years. André was now completely bald, and Firmin had gone completely grey.

The two of them spotted Carrie and proceeded to walk over to her. "Ah, Caroline!" Boomed Firmin in a very jolly voice. "Good to see you."

"Bonjour monsieur Firmin." Carrie replied.

They continued to chat for a very long time. Jean was giving a talk to his orchestra.

"What were you saying to him?" Andrea asked.

"Giving a few pointers… he got a bit worked up saying that we don't know what we are talking about." Said André, quietly.

"But in the early days of our business…" Interjected Firmin, "…I would say that we got quite a lot of experience to know what we are looking for."

"A Critique?" Asked Carrie, curiously.

"If only." Replied Firmin. Carrie looked confused.

"Have you not heard the stories?" Asked André in disbelief.

In danger of looking increasingly stupid, Carrie asked. "What stories?"

"The Phantom of The Opera!" Andrea, Firmin and André all said together.

Carrie just looked at them confused. Jean, however, chose that precise moment to call them all back to rehearsals. Firmin and André left the theatre, and Andrea and Carrie made their way back to the stage.

"I cannot believe you do not know…" Said Andrea to Carrie.

She shrugged this off however. If it was that important then she would of course have known.

"Ask anyone…they will tell you about him. ' A terrible figure that haunts the Populaire and watches performances from box 5'… Of course he is long gone now."

Carrie pretended to look interested, but the truth was she was concentrating more on what she was about to sing.

"From the beginning of the Aria then please, Mademoiselle."

Carrie let out a sigh. It was now very dark, and the candles that had lit the room were nearly out. Minouche hopped up onto her lap and curled up. Carrie did not really feel like heading off to bed, she was too busy thinking.

Absent mindedly stroking the cat, Carrie's concerns turned to her father. It was not like him to act so strangely, especially when it was his own children he was talking to.

What is this all of a sudden about his mother? He has never ever spoken of her before and I am sure he would have if she left him that much money.

Nothing made any sense. This was not how she wanted her visit to her parents to be, full of secrets. In the end she decided that whatever it was her father was so secretive about he would tell her and Jake in his own time.

She drifted off to sleep, her last thoughts about the production she was in. Whenever she wanted to keep her mind off things, this was usually what she would think about.


	2. Uncovering a Secret

Anon Review Replies: 

**Marie:** Glad you liked the start, hopefully you will like the rest of it aswell ;)

**Marieena: **Yay! I'm glad you think it isn't dull, and it is only going to get better (that is my beta's opinion anyay).

**Kathryn Glover: **Thank you very much for the review, glad you liked the opening chapter. Can I just ask... how long did it take you to read What Lies Beneath if you did it in one sitting?

Right, here we are with our second installment to our sequel. On that note, chapters will be put up once a week, it may sometimes be more often than that but it shouldnt be any later than that. Enjoy chapter 2...

* * *

Chapter 2- Uncovering a Secret

"Ouch!" Carrie woke up and winced. Something very sharp had pressed into her leg. Looking down she saw that Minouche was looking for some attention, though Carrie could not imagine why as it must have been very late at night. She reached down and stroked the cat, wondering why on earth she was not sleeping.

The answer to this however made itself known in no time. There was a piano playing in the background. Carrie assumed that this was why Minouche was not sleeping. This did make her wonder however why everyone else was not awake. She then realised however that the music room, where the sound was coming from, was right next to the room she was in, and now that she listened more intently she discovered that it was not being played that loudly at all.

Carrie walked over to the door which led into the music room. It was shut and this meant that there was no way for her to see into the room, and therefore no way to tell who it was that was sitting at the piano. _Well, it has to be Father or Jake. I don't think that mother can play the piano… _She pressed her ear against the door so she could hear the music more clearly.

She strained her ears, now realising that there was a voice singing along with the tune. The voice was so quiet she could not make out what the words were, and also could not work out whether it was Erik or Jake. Carrie thought that it would be a very stupid idea to just open the door and see who it was but was very tempted to all the same.

All of a sudden however a voice called from the other side of the door. "You know if you want to come in all you really have to do is knock Carrie…" It was her father's voice. Carrie did not know how he knew that she was there and was extremely surprised.

Quickly recovering from the shock she decided to play along with what he had said however and so she knocked on the door. Upon entering the music room she saw her Father sitting at the piano, putting some pieces of musical score away in a leather-bound folder.

"You are up rather late…" Erik said to her, wondering why she had not gone to bed.

"I fell asleep in an armchair…" She replied, wondering whether or not her father would believe her, even though it was the truth.

Erik looked a little relieved for some reason. "That is good to hear…" He began, making Carrie wonder why he had said this, "…I thought that you could hear me from upstairs, and I did not want to wake anyone, especially your mother."

This made sense to Carrie. She then remembered why it was she had come into the music room. "What was it that I just heard you playing?" She asked him, wondering whether or not he was going to tell her.

Erik seemed to be considering her question. It took him a little bit of thinking before he finally came up with a reasonable answer. "Nothing important really, it is just a very old opera score that I found on the shelves in the library…"

Carrie could not help thinking that he was not being entirely truthful and yet she thought that it would be best not to say this to Erik. He seemed to be waiting for her to react in some way to his statement but Carrie just nodded her head.

"…alright, now that is sorted out I think it would be a good idea for you to go and get some sleep. It is very late after all." Erik said to her, hoping that when she woke up she would not be able to remember the events of this evening. He knew that this was a very hopeful thing to think.

"Ok…goodnight father." She did not say another word to him. She just went off to her old bedroom and settled down to sleep.

She was finding it very difficult to sleep however. Carrie could not understand why it took her father so long to answer her when she asked what he was playing. If it was just an old score then he would have answered her more quickly. There was nothing else for it, when the morning came she would just have to try and find the same thing that he had been playing, no matter how long it took.

At last she drifted off into an uneasy sleep. Erik was still downstairs however and wide awake. He hated it when he had to lie to his own children because it always made him feel very guilty. He went through to the library and put the 'Don Juan Triumphant' score that he had been playing from back in its usual hiding place. He hoped that this would mean that nobody would be able to find it.

He went up to bed, where he found Christine already asleep. Perhaps it would ease his guilt if he did tell Carrie the truth, as this was usually the better than telling lies. _But you do not know if she has heard of 'Don Juan' at the Opera House… _This made him realise that the best course of action would be to stay silent, after all he did not know what she would think if Carrie found out that he was the 'Phantom of the Opera'.

-

Morning came. Erik seemed to be in a very peculiar mood and Christine seemed to notice this from the moment that they woke up. When she asked him what was bothering him however, he did not seem to want to answer immediately.

"I will tell you later…" He replied. Erik knew however that this would be a very unlikely thing to do, as she did not know that he had another copy of 'Don Juan Triumphant'.

Carrie had got up very early that very morning. She thought that this was a good thing to do as her father was not yet awake. She went down to the library immediately to start searching for the music that Erik had been playing the previous night. It was very fortunate for her that the library was very well arranged. It meant that all of the scores were stored separately from the ordinary books.

She went over to the music and tried to make up her mind where she was going to start searching for the mysterious score. Little did she know that she was being watched…

Carrie pulled down a pile of scores and looked to see what they were. Many of them were just common Operas that she had heard before. She knew that this was not what her father had been playing last night and so she replaced them exactly as they had been on the shelf.

She pulled down and examined another pile with no success. She had heard all of these as well. When she did finally come to one that she had not heard before she did not know how she was meant to tell if this was what she had heard last night. Erik and Jake were the only members of the family who could read a full orchestral score well. Carrie could read music to a certain extent, but it always took her a very long time to find the notes on the piano which corresponded with the notes on the page.

"You really are not going to give up are you?" Carrie jumped in alarm. She had been so engrossed in her task of trying to find the music that she had not seen Erik watching her from the door.

"Father…" She began, wondering whether or not he was going to be angry with her. Erik simply smiled at her, Carrie obviously was not in trouble, "…I was just wondering what it was you were playing last night."

Erik made it quite clear by the look on his face that he knew this was what she was doing. He walked over to a shelf that Carrie had already looked through and then took down the handful of scores that had been replaced there. He put them on the table that was to his right and then went back to the shelf, running his fingers along it.

There was a 'click' sound. Erik then slid away what appeared to be the false back of a shelf and pulled out the same-leather bound folder that Carrie had seen the previous night. Erik seemed to be wondering whether or not this was the right thing to do. If she did know about the Opera already then this would be very bad luck, and he would just have to tell her about his reign at the Opera House.

He handed the folder to Carrie, and she read the gold lettering that was written on it, 'Don Juan Triumphant' then below this 'By Erik Destler'. Carrie did not seem to have heard of 'Don Juan' however, which was quite a relief for Erik.

"You wrote all of this!?" Carrie asked her father. The Opera was extremely long. It must have taken him a very long time to write, if not a good part of his life.

"Yes…" He replied quietly, wondering what Carrie was going to think of this, "…it is my life's work."

He thought that it would be best to tell her as much as possible without letting her know that he was the Opera Ghost. "This…" She said, very quietly, Erik was sure that she was going to say something about hearing that this was the opera that The Phantom was meant to have composed, yet she surprised him, "…is amazing!"

Erik would have breathed a sigh of relief if he thought that it were not a suspicious thing to do but decided not to as he was sure that Carrie would more than likely question him if he did.

"Umm…" Erik began, feeling like an idiot as he did not really know what to say, "…thank you very much." He finished, rather lamely.

Carrie seemed to be trying to make sense of the music, yet was finding this a very difficult thing to do as the Opera was so complicated. "Will you play some of it for me?"

This was not what Erik had been expecting her to ask him to do. It was a very lucky thing that Christine had gone round to Meg's house not that long ago, otherwise he would have had to say no to this.

He sat down at the piano, opened up the opera to the first page and began to play. He played for around a minute before Carrie stopped him. "Could you play me what it was you were playing last night?"

Erik flicked through the pages to the back of the music to a song which was called 'The Point of No Return'. He began to play the very angry tune which Carrie vaguely remembered him playing the previous night.

He finished playing through the piece, which took a surprisingly long time. There were not that many lyrics which meant that it was played slowly so that it was drawn out to that amount of time.

Carrie gave a small round of applause, though Erik did not think that this was very necessary for her to do. "Thank you…" He said to her in a very quiet voice. Carrie thought that he almost sounded nervous.

"Can you play me some more of this…"

"No…" He replied, now sounding quite stern, "…Carrie. You are going to have to promise me that you are not going to tell anyone else about this. Do you understand?"

Carrie thought that this was a very strange thing to ask, but then realised that he probably had been keeping it secret for quite a while now. After all, if he wanted anyone else to know about it then he would not be keeping it in a hidden location.

"Ok…" Carrie replied, wondering whether or not she was going to be able to keep this promise. She did have a tendency to say things that she did not mean to.

"Promise me Carrie." Erik sounded even more stern than he had done when he had requested her to do this.

"Ok, I promise I won't tell anyone…" Carrie then thought of something, "…can I not even tell mother?"

Erik looked as though he was getting angry. His voice however did not sound angry, so Carrie thought that she must have been imagining this. "You especially cannot tell your mother…"

Carrie did not see any point in arguing with him about this and so she turned and went back into the kitchen. She was surprised to see that Jake was not up yet, but then she remembered just how lazy he was.

-

"Six years is long enough to drive anyone mad! When are we going to do anything interesting!?" A man shouted at a figure.

"Patience…" The figure replied, thinking that it would be best to tell him something that would no doubt calm him down, "…the time is drawing very near. I am going to need your help to do something very important."

The man looked very confused at this. He did not think that he was going to be starting important tasks so soon. "How important?"

The figure seemed to be very pleased that he had managed to calm him down with just a mere sentence. "My life will be on the line if you make a single mistake…"

This seemed to make the man feel very important indeed, yet also it seemed to make him very nervous about what it was that would be expected of him. "What exactly is it that we are going to be doing then?"

He was not entirely sure if he was going to get an answer right away, after all he had been told that such information was only required nearer the time. "It would be a foolish thing to do if we discussed the entire thing here wouldn't it?"

The man thought that this was a rather obvious thing to point out. "I suppose so…" He replied, feeling rather stupid, "…when are we going to do this 'important task' then?"

The figure seemed to be pondering his answer, not entirely sure if it was going to be a wise move to tell him this at their current location. "In around one week…" He replied, the man had not been expecting it to be this soon.

"Wow…" He said, thinking that this must have sounded like a ridiculous thing to say, "…well, I had no idea that one complaint would mean that I would actually have a proper job in a week…"

The figure seemed to laugh. "The actual reason that I wanted to speak with you is because I was asked to tell you that you had this job."

"A job that puts your life in my hands…" The man muttered, loud enough for the figure to hear him.

"I have every bit of confidence in you that I will still be alive and well by the time we have completed our task…" They both heard a noise come from behind them. The figure pulled out a gun, turned round and shot into the dark alleyway that they were standing in. It was surprisingly dark considering that it was still day time.

The figure walked over to the person that he had shot. "A spy…no, a private investigator, he will not be missed…" He said, as though this was one of the most common things in the world to happen to him, "…I think it is best that we speak at another time in a more secure location, meet in three days at 'you know where'."

The man seemed to understand where 'you know where' was. They turned and left, leaving the corpse of the spy there in the alleyway. The man seemed to notice this. "What are you going to do about him?" He called after the figure.

"Someone will clean it up…" He called back. They did not see each other again for another three days.

-

"Oh will you hurry up Carrie!" Jake called upstairs to his sister. "Do you always take this long to get ready…what are you doing up there to take this long!?"

"Stop rushing me!" Carrie called back down the stairs, where Christine and Jake were both waiting for her.

"Father…" Jake said to Erik, not sure if it were a good idea or not to say what he was about to, "…are you sure you do not want to come with us? I mean it is not every day that we get to go out like this as a family, and it is not as though I am going to be on the doorstop like Carrie is…"

Erik seemed to be trying to hide something from Jake when he answered. "I am sure, shopping really is the most boring thing I can think of doing… not that I don't want to spend time with you…"

Jake seemed to be coming up with his own solution as to why Erik did not want to come with them. Jake could not honestly say that shopping was one of his most favourite pass times, yet he was going anyway. _He must not want to come with us because he feels self-conscious about the scar on his face… _Jake thought that this was probably the most obvious and logical answer to the whole thing.

"If you say so father…" He said to him. Erik thought that he sounded sympathetic as he said this to him, yet decided not to point this out, as he may have just been imagining this.

"Are you going to be looking for anything in particular?" Erik asked. He thought that it would be a good idea to try and get off the subject of why he was not going with them.

"Not really… like I said I find shopping rather boring…" A sudden thought then came across him, "…I don't suppose I could just stay here with you could I?"

"No!" Erik replied very loudly, making Jake stare at him. "You have to go out with your sister and mother and enjoy yourself, ok?"

Jake thought that this was a very contradictory thing to say as he was not going. He could not help but think that Erik was keeping something from him but decided not to press the matter as he knew that he may get angry if he did so.

"Will you please hurry up Carrie we do want to get going quite soon…" Christine called up the stairs, wondering what on earth it was she was doing to take so long.

"I said stop rushing me!" She called again.

Jake and Christine both let out a sigh at the same time. Erik could not help but chuckle to himself. They both had a tendency to do things at exactly the same time, making a rather comical effect as the outcome.

Erik went over to the cats' bowls and noticed that they were all empty. He filled them up, which passed a little bit of time. He would have thought that in the time it took him to do this Carrie would have come downstairs but he was wrong, he did not know why she was taking so long, it was starting to annoy him even more, even though he was not going with them.

_I need them to be out of the house as soon as possible so that I have enough time to get everything ready! _Erik thought to himself, being sure to keep his face as neutral as possible so as to avoid awkward questions from Jake.

Carrie at last started to walk down the stairs. She looked as though she had been trying to make herself look as good as she possibly could, even though they were only going out shopping.

"We are not going to the Opera you know…" Jake said to her, thinking that this may cause her to get angry with him. He was proved right by the very next thing that she said.

"Oh I am so sorry!" She boomed, making it very clear to everyone present that she definitely was not sorry. "I am so sorry for wanting to look my best when I go out in public…"

Everyone except for Carrie started to laugh. She was getting very annoyed with all of them. She could not believe that they were making a joke out of her when they were family.

"Well I am sorry your imperial majesty!" Jake joked, thinking that this would probably cause her to become even more angry with him than she already was.

"Oh stop it you two!" Christine said before a full scale argument broke out between the twins. "We will be back in a few hours. Is that alright with you Erik?"

Erik nodded at her. _The longer you take the better. I need plenty of time to get everything perfect…_ Something obviously did show on his face when he thought this.

"Are you alright father?" Jake asked, wondering why it was he was the only person to notice the expression on his face.

"I am fine…" Erik replied, "…you three go and enjoy yourselves…" He put a particular emphasis on the last two words, and Jake was sure that this was more than likely directed at him rather than Carrie and Christine.

"Will do…" Carrie said, "…and don't forget to…"

"I have already fed them, and given them some milk…" He said, pointing over at the cats' bowls. Carrie felt like a bit of an idiot since he knew what it was she was going to say.

"Ok… well let's get going you two…" Christine then rushed them out of the door as quickly as possible and then mouthed to Erik 'Good Luck'.

Erik knew exactly what it was that she meant when she said this. As soon as they had left he turned and made his way into the dining room. "Okay…" He said to himself, thinking out loud as usual when there was no one else around, "…with everyone that is coming and the four of us that means there are going to be…nine!"

Erik clapped his hands together and then wondered where he was going to begin. _The more the merrier to celebrate Jake's new found job. After all everything is going to need to be perfect for him… _He thought to himself, he then turned and went into the kitchen to get everything that was going to be needed for later on that very evening.

* * *

Authors Notes: Some of you may notice that this is quite a bit different to the origional chapter 2. This is because i felt that it needed re-doing, mainly because there was the pointless use of the song, and therefore people who have just read WLB will have just seen 'The Point of no Return' anyway. So I hope you like the revamped version, and the rest of the story as well.

R


	3. The Other Mask

It's that time of week again, so we invite you to enjoy the third chapter of our sequel, enjoy chapter 3...

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Chapter 3- The Other Mask

A week had passed since the dinner that the Daae-Destler family had held for their friends. Erik was currently working on his newest opera, which he was now quite far into. However, he was not able to concentrate on it as he usually could. His mind kept wandering back to the events of the dinner.

He was so preoccupied with his thoughts that he did not even notice the throbbing pain in his hand. Erik tried as hard as he could to focus on the latest instalment of his opera but he was unsuccessful. He could not understand why Jake was being so secretive about his new job.

Erik shook his head, and then focused completely on the score in front of him. Dipping his quill into the ink bottle on the side of the piano, he started to write in some of the notes he had just worked out a few minutes ago. He wrote in an incorrect note.

"Damn!" He cursed under his breath. "Stupid... D flat not D sharp." He shook his head again to try and clear his mind.

It was no good. Erik could see that he was not going to get any further with his Opera today. Admitting defeat, he put the score back in its leather bound folder, and went to put it away in the library. He almost flattened Minouche on his way there, as she had decided to have a nap in the middle of a doorway.

After carefully putting his new masterpiece on the shelf, he went to sit down in one of the comfortable arm chairs nearby. Now that he was not doing anything he noticed the pain in his hand and started to rub it sub-consciously, still thinking about Jake and his all too secret job.

Porsche hopped onto Erik's lap. Even though this was not the Porsche that Erik had known during his days at the opera house, it was remarkable just how much like her grandmother she was. He began to stroke her to take his mind off of the pain, allowing him to concentrate more on finding an explanation for Jakes peculiar behaviour.

Erik thought back to the very beginning of the Dinner…

-

_Erik was laying the table, carefully putting out place settings of knives, forks and plates for everyone. He checked the clock. They were due to come back in roughly ten minutes._

"_Glasses…" He muttered to himself, and then he began to lay nine glasses on the table. "…wine." He hurried off into the kitchen and returned with two bottles of red wine._

_There was a knock at the door. Erik hurried to go and open it. Upon opening the front door he saw standing in front of him…_

"_Zurie!" He boomed and then to his great surprise she threw her arms round him._

"_It's good to see you Erik." She said, releasing him. Erik gestured for her to enter, she went into the dining room. "Very impressive." She admitted, whilst looking at the very neatly laid out table._

"_How have you been?" Erik asked._

_Zurie opened her mouth to reply, but did not get the chance as there was another knock at the door. Erik again rushed to go and answer it, he opened the door._

"_Bonjour Erik." Said, Madame Giry, giving him a friendly hug which was not quite as forceful as Zurie's. "I trust you have been keeping well?"_

"_Very well thank you." He replied. He led her through into the dining room where Zurie was. There was yet another knock at the door, and Erik left the two of them to talk while he went to answer it._

_Meg, Byron and their son Michel were standing on the doorstep._

"_Hello Erik." Said Meg, putting her arms round him briefly._

"_Bonjour." Byron muttered more than said. It was clear that even after eighteen years Byron still hadn't completely forgiven Erik for knocking him out during a performance._

_Michel just nodded at Erik. Erik remembered just how shy he was, this did not really worry Erik though, he got on with Jake very well. He was not as tall as most boys his age. He was also quite slim, with brown hair that was a mess, and brown eyes to match it perfectly._

_Everyone took their seats at the table, and not a moment too soon, as they could hear three sets of footsteps approaching the front door._

"…_God he was a nightmare." Came Carries voice from the kitchen. Then the door to the dining room opened, and the three of them entered._

"_Surprise!" Shouted everyone, taking Jake back completely._

"_What's all this for?" He asked, looking bewildered._

"_What do you think?" Asked Erik, jokingly, gesturing the three of them to sit down. "To celebrate of course!"_

"_Celebrate what?" Jake asked, though he had a feeling he knew what already._

"_Your job of course!" Said Carrie, taking a seat to the right of Jake. To his left was Michel, who gave him a warm smile._

_Jake let out a sigh, but did not think it would be very wise to make a fuss about the situation in front of everybody._

"_Thanks, everyone." He said, as happily as he could but without looking at them._

_Conversations then started up around the table, mainly to catch up with each other. Christine was having a conversation with Zurie, no doubt about how things were back at the Populaire. Erik was busy talking to Madame Giry, they had not seen each other for quite a while so had a lot of things to talk about. Carrie was talking across the table to Meg and Byron. Meg was fascinated by her stories about productions that she had been in. This left Jake and Michel to talk._

"_So… how have things been going at the factory?" Jake asked, Michel looked solemn at his question._

"_Well, it's not exactly the most exciting job is it?" His voice sounded as though it should have been light hearted, though he sounded quite bitter. He continued, "…so, what are you doing then, it must be a great job for your family to do something like this for you."_

_Jake pondered his answer. "I haven't actually told them what I am doing yet."_

_Erik was listening from the end of the table. He was still talking with Antoinette, though he was not really hearing what she was saying._

"_Well then tell me." Said Michel in an anxious voice._

"_In fact why not share it with all of us…" Came Erik's voice, everybody stopped talking at once._

_Jake sat there in silence for about a minute. He could not think what he was going to say. Everybody was watching him expectantly, some with food in their mouths and some with their drink in their hands._

"_Ummm…" He started, Erik gave him a very expectant look, "…sorry everyone." With that he got up and left, leaving everyone at the table stunned._

-

"What are you doing that is so bad you can't tell us?" Erik muttered to himself, still stroking Porsche who had gone to sleep.

He heard the front door open and close. He got up and headed to the kitchen, where he could hear the voices of Christine and Meg, indicating that they had obviously returned from their walk.

"Unbelievable…" Whispered Christine very loudly, this was followed by the sound of something being put down on the table.

"I just can't believe it…" Came Meg's voice, followed by the scraping of a chair.

Erik then entered the room. From what he could see, the thing that was causing the two of them such distress was a newspaper, it was on the table in front of Christine.

"What's wrong?" Asked Erik. They both jumped. Apparently they had not heard him enter the room. "Has something happened?"

Christine looked up at him, but it was Meg who answered. "No… well, not to anybody we know anyway."

Erik looked at her questioningly, then walked over to the table and examined the front page of the newspaper. The headline read: **Murder! Jacques Lemont Killed In His Home.**

Erik looked at Christine. "Who the hell is Jacques Lemont?" He asked, looking back down at the newspaper.

Christine did not answer, but instead thrust the paper into Erik's hands. Erik began to read the very long article.

_Jacques Lemont, a wealthy landowner, was murdered last night in his own home. The murder was witnessed by Lemont's wife, Gladys. In a statement that she gave to the police, she has said that her husband was stabbed three times in the chest. Examination of the body shows that the strikes punctured his left lung, splintered his rib-cage and severed his heart. A doctor said 'He had no chance of survival, even if medical attention was there 1 second after it happened.'_

_A further inquiry to Gladys Lemont produced a very detailed description of the killer. 'I could not see his face, he was wearing a mask, but it was very light so I could see his figure very clearly. He was tall, wearing a red cape with a hood, and a white mask decorated with gold. And those eyes… those horrible red eyes…'_

_Anybody that has ANY information about this person should contact the police at once. For a full interview with Gladys Lemont, see page 7._

Erik looked up from the article. Meg had been watching him the whole time to see his reaction, Christine however, had not taken her eyes off of the table. For some reason she seemed furious about something.

Erik quickly flicked to page seven. It was an extremely long article, so he just skimmed over it, picking out things like 'Terrified' and 'I was in such shock… I couldn't move'.

"Errr…" Erik said, feeling very stupid that he could not think of something a bit more appropriate to say.

"Errr what?" Said Christine, sounding very bitter indeed. Erik did not say anything to this. He was trying to work out what he had done to upset her.

"I'd better go." Chipped in Meg. Neither Christine nor Erik said anything, so she got up and let herself out.

Erik went and sat down next to Christine. He reached out a hand to put on hers, but she tore it away in a hurry. Erik let out a very long sigh.

"Are you going to tell me what I have done to upset you now?" He asked, a bit more angrily than he had intended to.

Christine looked him straight in the eyes. "Red cape… white mask… remind you of anyone, 'Monsieur Darrell'?"

Erik looked at her in complete shock and amazement. He thought he was mishearing her if she was accusing him of this.

"What are you suggesting?" Cried Erik in disbelief. "Do you think that I killed this man!? I don't even know who the hell he is!"

Erik got to his feet and headed to the door. "Well, look at it from my point of view, it does fit the description very well doesn't it?" She yelled after him, also getting to her feet.

"Christine you know very well that the last person that I ever killed in my life was that witch of a mother of mine!" This was perfectly true, the only person that Christine did not know that Erik killed, or indeed did not even know existed was Massort.

Christine went back to the newspaper and read the article again. If the murder was the night before, then there was practically no way that Erik could have done it.

"What were you doing last night, and don't say sleeping, I mean before you went to bed?" She sounded a little less demanding than she did earlier.

Erik thought back to the previous evening. "I was composing." He answered, not a note of untruthfulness in his voice.

"Composing what? You haven't let me see your latest 'masterpiece', and perhaps this is why!"

Erik had had just about enough of this pointless argument. He stormed out of the room. Christine was about to go after him but he had returned before she had even got close to the door. Erik was holding the leather bound folder that he had put his latest score in earlier that day.

"I have not shown you because I don't usually let you see them until they are finished." He said calmly, holding out the folder for Christine to take.

Christine took it, and then looked down at the gold letters that were printed on the front of the folder. 'Fires of Eden'. Christine opened her mouth, couldn't think of anything to say, closed it, then opened it again, lost for words.

"Erik… I'm…" She looked as though she was on the verge of tears. What was she thinking? She had just accused Erik of doing something that she knew he would never do.

"It's alright…" He replied, putting his arms around her. "I'll admit, I was pretty shocked by the similarity to…" He began, running his fingers through her hair, "…but I'm not fancy enough to decorate my masks with gold." He finished with a chuckle, Christine just sniffed.

"No… I'm really sorry." She said, sobbing into his chest. "I shouldn't have just accused you like that…"

Erik could not think of anything to say. For a few minutes he just stood there holding her. Finally, Christine found her voice again.

"I think I'm going to go off to bed." She sniffed again.

"I'll be there in a minute. I've just got to put this back." He replied, picking up the folder. It was still quite early. It can't have been past 8 o'clock.

Christine headed off to their bedroom. After replacing the folder where he had got it from, Erik went to join her. The last thoughts he had before drifting off into sleep, were surprisingly not of the killer but it was of the victims wife, and how she must feel having just lost the man she loved.

-

Carrie let out a very long yawn. "Don't you just hate late night rehearsals?" She asked Andrea.

"Well yes… and no." She replied, Carrie looked over at her curiously. "Well, at least I will be so exhausted I will have no trouble sleeping tonight." The two of them laughed.

"Positions, positions!" Called Jean-Michel. Everybody present at the rehearsals moaned.

"Perhaps that is enough for them tonight, Jean." Interjected Firmin, who as usual was overseeing the rehearsals with André.

Jean-Michel did not answer, just nodded his head in agreement. Firmin turned to speak to André, but then saw that he was busy reading.

"Checking to see if the junk business is dead yet are you?" He asked, chuckling at his own joke.

"It's not the junk business that died, it was some person called Jacques Lemont…" André continued to read. The name sounded somewhat familiar to Firmin.

Then it came to him. "Didn't he invite us for dinner at his salon?"

"Mmmm." Replied André, clearly more interested in the paper than his conversation with Firmin. All of a sudden André gasped.

"What!?" Asked Firmin quickly. André did not answer, just handed him the paper for him to read. It took Firmin a couple of minutes to read the article, until finally he said. "That description sounds very like…"

He and André looked at each other, eyes wide, and then said together. "The Phantom of the Opera!"

This earned them a lot of very strange looks from everybody who was present. André then spoke up.

"Shouldn't you be getting off to bed?" Everyone left, not wanting to stay round the managers.

"We have to inform the police!" Hissed Firmin. André simply nodded his head very nervously in agreement.

"Surely… surely he must be dead by now, a lunatic like that…" He broke off, remembering what happened when you insulted the opera ghost. "Tomorrow, we will go to them tomorrow and tell them what we know."

The two of them did not say another word to each other. They simply left the Populaire in complete silence. Firmin dropped the newspaper in a bin on his way out. As soon as he was out of sight, Carrie and Andrea came out of the hiding place where they had been listening from and took the paper.

Carrie held up the paper and read it, Andrea reading over her shoulder.

"So… do you think it is the Phantom?" Carrie asked her, as she knew that Andrea knew much more about the 'Opera Ghost' than she did.

"I only recall the Ghost wearing that outfit once. Apparently his favourite choice of clothes was an evening suit, so I don't think it is, no." Carrie read over the article again, she felt very sorry for Gladys Lemont.

"We had better get some sleep I guess. We've a nice day full of rehearsals tomorrow." She said, her voice taking a very sarcastic tone near the end of her sentence.

The two of them left, Carrie heading for her room in the Opera house, and Andrea heading home.

-

Jake was lying on his bed in his home in Calais. He had a newspaper in his hands, and was reading the seventh page over and over. He felt extremely sorry for Gladys Lemont, she must have been terrified.

There was a clap of thunder and a flash of lightning, followed by rain. Jake got up and walked over to the window, looking out onto the lamp-lit street. He could see a cat run under a carriage to shelter itself from the rain.

Jake then realised just how awake he was. That was one of the big downsides of living on your own. There was no one to talk to when you had absolutely nothing to do. He decided eventually that it would be best for him to try and get some sleep as he had a busy day the next day. It took him a very long time to drift off to sleep, the story of the murder still in his mind. His final thoughts were of the murderer, dressed in red with a white mask…

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Authors Notes: As usual we hope you enjoyed the chapter, and if you did then please leave a review!

R&M


	4. The Ghost Enigma

Well, sorry if it is a little late in the day for this to be uploaded, but for some reason it was not working earlier. Anyways, enjoy chapter 4...

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Chapter 4- The Ghost Enigma

"Do you realise just how much you have messed this up?" Shouted a very tall man at the person standing opposite him.

"I got the job done didn't I?" The person, who happened to be Jake, argued back.

The man let out a harsh laugh. "Yes, in your own crude fashion!" He shouted, spit flying from his mouth.

Jake raised a hand to wipe the spit off his face. He could not see what he had done wrong.

_My own crude fashion… ha! _He looked back up at the man. "I think that 5000 francs is enough profit to overlook my methods, don't you?"

The tall man thought for a moment. He looked as though he was remembering something very pleasant and then his expression changed to one of anger.

"Yet I think it is safe to say that that is one customer that we will not be hearing from again, and whose fault is that!?" He yelled back, spit once again flying from his mouth. Jake was one step ahead of him though. He had put his hands up to shield his face.

"Well…" Jake began, wiping his hands on his trousers, "…it's not as though there is nobody else out there in need of our services, is it?"

The man let out a sigh and then picked up a briefcase that was beside his foot. "Go home Jacob Destler." He said in a monotone.

Jake looked over at the clock. It was not yet time for him to finish. "Why?" He asked, plainly.

"I need you to be rested and calm. Your methods are not ones that are desirable in this business, so calm down." He walked over to a desk, set the case down on it and opened it.

He handed the piece of parchment he was holding to Jake who looked at it and said. "Where is this?"

"Paris, we have had dealings with this woman before. Now go home and rest. Tomorrow brings the start of a long journey, yet hopefully a most profitable one…"

Jake turned and left, leaving the man in his office alone. It started to rain. Jake broke into a run towards his home. It was very fortunate that he lived so close to his work.

_Brilliant _Jake thought to himself. _Just brilliant, I've only just left the damn place and I'm already returning there on business. _After a very short time he reached his home. Pulling out a key from his inner coat pocket and fitting it in the lock he entered his house.

-

"Are you sure this is a wise thing to do?" André asked Firmin as they approached the police headquarters.

Firmin started fidgeting nervously with his hair, as if trying to flick something very bothersome out of it. "If we don't then imagine how many other lives are going to be taken by this madman!"

André winced at the very thought of it. He knew of course that the phantom would not hesitate to kill anyone. His thoughts were not lightened when he looked up to see Firmin nervously massaging his neck, even though the mark that had been left there so many years ago had long since faded.

"You're right…" André agreed, opening the doors as they reached the police headquarters.

They entered, and then hurried over to a desk with a man sitting behind it.

"Yes?" He asked politely.

"Ummm… well…" Began Firmin in a very nervous tone indeed.

"We have some information regarding the murder of Jacques Lemont. We believe we know who did it." André said, extremely quickly.

The officer raised his eyebrows. "This way please, gentlemen."

He led them off into a small room, where, to both Firmin and André's complete surprise, was none other than Gladys Lemont. There was also another man present in the room. Firmin could tell by his attire that he was a detective.

"These two believe they know who did it." Stated the officer. André did not think that he had given enough information about what 'it' was, but the detective seemed to understand.

"Please have a seat." He gestured to two seats at a table which were opposite Gladys.

The officer left the room. Firmin and André turned to face Gladys. It was a pitiful sight. She was crying and had clearly been doing so for the past few hours.

"What do you know?" The detective asked the two of them, it was Firmin who answered.

"Eighteen years ago…" He began, his voice shaking, "… eighteen years ago, we held a ball at the Populaire…"

That was about as much as Firmin could say in one go, so André took over. "Everything was going smoothly… people were dancing and laughing…"

"Then we were approached by a man… a man who called himself the 'Phantom of the Opera'… He was dressed in a red cape, complete with a white mask very similar to the one described by Gladys."

Gladys looked up at the sound of her name. "How tall was he?" She asked in a thick Welsh accent.

Firmin thought that this was a very peculiar question. "Well, a little taller than me I suppose… he is a known killer mind you!"

The detective was standing and silently listening, yet now he thought it was a good time to speak. "Where does he live?"

Firmin let out a false laugh. "You think that if we knew that we wouldn't have done something about him!?"

"Are you saying you don't have any idea about where this 'Phantom' resides?"

André thought for a moment and then let out a small chuckle, remembering how Catherine had jabbed at the eyes of a statue. "Underground… beneath the opera house…"

André had expected the detective to laugh, but was surprised that he seemed to be taking this deadly seriously. "I remember a case similar to this… three of my colleagues followed up a lead to this Ghost by a very old owner of the Populaire. He was found dead soon after they went looking for this 'Phantom', and they are presumed dead, as nobody has seen them for a good 25 years…"

Firmin and André stared at the Detective, they had not been expecting to hear anything like this. They were only intending to give a statement.

"I shall be over at the Populaire tomorrow. It is time to solve this mystery…" The detective then seemed to get lost in his own thoughts, "… you may leave gentlemen. This information had been most useful. I shall see you tomorrow. Good day to you…"

The two of them did not answer. They simply got up and left. They could hear him and Gladys talking about something but could not quite make out what.

"Well, the game is really on tomorrow then…" Firmin said, more to himself than to André.

-

"And one… two… three … plié… straighten, plié… straighten." It was yet another usual dance lesson. The ballet dancers were yet again being worked until they dropped. There was however one small difference from Christine's days at the opera. Instead of Madame Giry teaching them, it was a new teacher called Jennifer Sacont.

Jennifer was not quite as strict as Madame Giry, also she preferred to be called by her first name rather than her surname. Jennifer was tall, with blonde curly hair and had a slim build for a dancer. However unlike Madame Giry she liked to push her students to breaking point.

"And again… Messieurs I am teaching!" André and Firmin had just come into the main theatre accompanied by the same detective that they had gone to see the previous day.

"Please carry on… don't mind us." Firmin called over to her. The detective meanwhile was examining the entire theatre carefully.

"Oh no, don't worry, we are going to be finished in a few minutes anyway so…" The ballet dancers seemed to be waiting for Jennifer to finish her sentence with baited breath. "… I suppose we could finish early."

The ballet girls let out a cheer at the sound of these words, and they ran off to get changed.

"Do you have any idea where your three colleagues went when they came here?" André asked the detective.

Jennifer was trying to listen into their conversation, yet was finding it impossible to do so. They were talking too quietly and were too far away from her for her to make any sense of it.

"I have no idea…" He answered back in a whisper, "… it would be useful if you had any more information about the phantom that might… help in my searching."

Firmin seemed to be very deep in thought. It may have been eighteen years since the Phantom had last made an appearance but Firmin could picture it as if it had just happened five minutes ago.

"He seemed to have an obsession with Christine Daae… her daughter is performing here now… we have given her her mother's old room…" He seemed to be carefully choosing his words.

"Take me there please." The detective requested.

André and Firmin led the detective out of the main theatre. They were about half way to Carries room when André seemed to realise something.

"What is your name monsieur?" He asked the detective.

"Christophe." For some reason he did not want to give his surname. Neither André nor Firmin pressed the matter however.

-

Carrie was currently trying to memorise some of her lines for the upcoming production of 'Romeo and Juliet'. It was fortunate that she did not have the biggest female part, as the lines for Juliet seemed to be endless. This made her feel very sorry indeed for Zurie, as she was playing the part of Juliet.

She set her script down on her bed, and was about to start going over her lines without it, when there was a knock on the door.

"Yes?" She called. The door opened to show three people, André, Firmin and Christophe.

"We are really sorry to have to bother you like this Miss Daae. May we take a look around please?"

Carrie looked very puzzled at this request, yet saw no reason why she should not let them. "Yes of course."

"You say he was obsessed with her?" Christophe asked the managers, not wasting any time in getting started in his search of the room. "How do you define 'Obsessed'."

Firmin was the one to answer him. "He always made sure that she got the lead in productions… mind you I can't say that I blame him. We had an awful soprano before her." His face twisted at the thought of La Carlotta.

"Anything else?"

"I'm sorry…" Carrie cut in, "… but who exactly are you talking about?"

"Your mother, actually." Stated André.

"Oh…" Replied Carrie, then her mind came to the conclusion that this 'Phantom' must have been obsessed with her when she worked there.

Not much else was said between the four of them for a while. Eventually Christophe came to a halt at a seemingly plain stone wall.

"Did anything used to be here?" He asked. Firmin looked amazed that he seemed to be able to tell such things.

"A large mirror, nothing special. We had it removed a while back, for some reason it seemed to unnerve everybody that stayed in this room…" Firmin trailed off, "…why, out of interest?"

"Was it only a mirror? There was nothing behind it?" He then started to tap on the wall, yet did not seem to be getting the results that he wanted.

"No, just a pile of bricks, as you can see." Came André's voice with a slight chuckle.

Carrie was intrigued by Christophe, if anything he seemed to be more paranoid than anything else.

"Well, I can see nothing wrong with it… it just seemed to jump out at me that's all." He then turned and headed to the door. "Could you please show me to your office gentlemen? If you were threatened there then there must be more in there than meets the eye."

"Of course, we are sorry to have bothered you Caroline." They left, closing the door behind them.

As soon as they had gone, Carrie got up and went over to her desk, opened a drawer and pulled out quill, ink and parchment and began to write something. It did not take her long to finish the letter, before heading off to post it.

When she returned to her room, she was surprised to find a familiar face waiting in her room for her.

"Zurie? What are you doing here?" Carrie could not think of any logical reason for her to be in her room.

"I just wanted a chat, that's all." Carrie thought that she seemed to be unnaturally nervous. "What do you know about this investigation?"

_What an odd question…_ She pondered her answer. "Only that it is about the death of Lemont, and that they are accusing a ghost."

Carrie had expected Zurie to laugh at this but was disappointed to see that she did not find it funny. "What do you know about the ghost?"

The conversation in Carrie's point of view was getting more and more bizarre, and even pointless. "Only that he is a murderer."

There was an extremely long silence between the two of them. Carrie though that the look on Zurie's face was a somewhat peculiar one. It was almost as though she pitied her for some reason.

"What?" She asked, getting very annoyed with the silence between the two of them.

"Carrie…" Zurie began, but the words seemed to be stuck in her throat, "… there's…" She wanted to say 'Something I need to tell you', but she couldn't, it was not her place to tell her something like that.

"Yes?" She was nearly shouting at her, which she really did not want to do as she liked Zurie very much.

"I'm sorry… I can't tell you." Zurie noticed only too late that this was a very stupid thing to say.

"Tell me what!?" Carrie actually did shout this time, and felt guilty almost immediately afterwards.

Zurie headed over to the door. Carrie was going to get there first to stop her but Zurie was much too quick for her. She had opened the door, and was just about to leave when she turned round to face Carrie.

"Perhaps, when the time is more convenient, we can continue this conversation. But now is not the time, and I am sorry for wasting your time Carrie." She turned and left, closing the door behind her.

Carrie was left to her own thoughts. What could be so terrible that Zurie did not want to tell her what it was? This question was bugging her for a long time, and she did not want it to hinder her in rehearsals. There was nothing that she could do. She would just have to push her talk with Zurie to the back of her mind for now and forget about it. After all, there was no point dwelling on something you could do nothing about, such as getting an answer out of someone.

-

"That has completely messed up the timing for this bar…" Erik muttered to himself, deep in concentration whilst working on his newest opera, "…that should be a quaver… and that should be a crotchet." He set down his quill, and then looked over his work, rather pleased with himself.

Christine entered the room. There was a slight tension between the two of them due to the argument that they had had not that long ago, but it was nothing too serious.

"How's it coming?" Christine asked, sounding even more polite than she usually did, trying to keep the situation calm.

"Not bad… it still has a very long way to go though." He replied, getting up from the piano, closing the lid, and walking over to Christine. "It's coming along much slower than my other work… except for Don Juan of course."

Christine looked up into Erik's startlingly blue eyes. She leaned in to kiss him, but before she had the chance…

"Ouch!" Something was scratching at her leg, looking down she saw Porsche with a letter in her mouth. "Thank you very much…"

She took the letter from the cat, opened it and then saw that it was from Carrie. Christine began to read.

_Maman and Papa,_

_I am writing to you to let you know about strange goings on in the Opera House. People seem to be under the impression that the murder of Jacques Lemont was the work of the 'Opera Ghost'. Personally I have not heard of anything more ridiculous in my entire life. There was a detective conducting a search of the Opera house. They even came into my room to have a look around for something. The managers seem to be very unnerved by all this. _

_I was wondering if mother has any idea about the 'Opera Ghost'? As it was around the time that she was at the Populaire that this so called 'Phantom' existed. Please write back, I would love to hear from you._

_Lots of love._

_Carrie._

_P.S. Father is remembering to feed the cats isn't he?_

Erik then bolted out of the door. Christine was about to rush after him, sure that something in the letter had upset him, but he was back before she had the chance.

"I haven't fed them today yet." He said with a grin creeping onto his face.

Christine let out a sigh. She had a very worried look on her face. "Seems that even after eighteen years they still like to blame any deaths on you…"

Erik was going to answer this with a 'Didn't you accuse me?' remark, but thought better of it. Things were not one hundred percent between the two of them as it was. Christine read through the letter several times and wondered just how much Carrie did know and how much of it she had put in the letter.

-

"… My own crude fashion…?"

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Authors Notes: As usual we hope you enjoyed it. Leave a review if you want to, we would certainly like you to. Next chapter up next saturday.

R&M


	5. Wrong and Wrong Again

I will start of by saying that I am really really sorry in the delay between chapters, it was NOT my fault, for some reason the documents manager was being a right pain up the... you get the idea. Anyways, on another note I must tell you that the story from this chapter onwards is entirely the work of me (R) due to M having much more college work than I do and therefore not as much free time to write this story, she appologises for this and hopes you find it as interesting as What Lies Beneath (I have some twists planned that even she does not know about, hehe). Enough rambling, enjoy chapter five...

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Chapter 5- Wrong and Wrong Again

_Name- Samuel Frelque. 20000 francs._

_The old fool has been paranoid for quite some time, getting close to him may be difficult. The mentioned date and place in my previous letters are crucial to stand a chance of success. Good luck._

-

"I said no!" Erik shouted at someone that Christine could not see. "And I don't want to hear another peep out of you until dinner, ok?"

Christine walked up to Erik and looked round the corner, expecting to see someone standing opposite Erik. She was surprised, however to see that there was nothing but thin air in front of her.

"Who on earth were you talking to?" Christine asked, wondering whether Erik was going to tell her.

"Something very fat…" Erik answered, gesturing down at the floor. Looking down she saw Berlioz sitting expectantly beside his bowl.

Christine could not help but laugh out loud. She wrapped her arms around Erik, feeling that at last there was no tension between the two of them as there had been since the argument that they had had. Berlioz had realised that he was not going to get his own way and so he went off into the living room and curled up in one of the comfortable arm chairs.

Something had only just occurred to Christine. "Where is Porsche?"

Erik gave a nervous smile. He had wondered how long it was going to take her to notice this. "I have sent her to the Opera House…"

This answer startled Christine somewhat. _Why would you want to send her there…?_

"Umm, I hope you don't mind me asking why?" In the time it had taken her to ask this she had already thought up at least ten possible answers.

"What Carrie said in that letter… it's bothering me…" Erik looked as though he had just gone into one of his moments of deep concentration, "…why would they be conducting a search when they know… well I'm pretty sure they know that I am gone?"

Christine could see his reasoning and yet there was still one thing she did not understand. "How are you going to know if anything is happening if Porsche is there...? In fact, how are you going to know what is going on even if you know something is going on? How are…"

"One question at a time please…" Erik cut her off, raising a hand to ensure silence, "…I will know if anything is happening if Porsche comes to get me. I will not be able to tell what is going on and so I will have to go and see for myself if she comes to get me." He explained.

She had been expecting this but she could not see that there was any point in arguing with him. If he had his mind set on this then there would be no changing it.

-

"Perhaps we were wrong…" André said, whilst reading something on his desk.

"You think so? I think that there is every chance that our clever friend was just very well hidden." Firmin replied to André.

Firmin had just caught sight of what André was reading. He moved round behind the chair that André was sitting in and began to read it over his shoulder. It turned out to be a police report.

_After several searches of the Populaire it is almost safe to assume that this 'Phantom' does not reside there anymore. A further investigation will be carried out to locate the whereabouts of this unknown individual. _

_I will be going back to the Opera House to carry out one final search. In the meantime we will start our search for the Phantom elsewhere._

_Signed C. Jones._

"Where did you get that?" Asked Firmin in surprise.

"More important than where is when…" André replied, folding up the report and putting it to one side, "… Christophe gave it to me earlier today. He is doing his final search of the building now. Not that he is going to find anything."

Firmin could not help but silently agree with him. Come to think of it, wasn't it pretty stupid to think that the 'Phantom' was still living in the Opera House if they had not heard from him in a whole eighteen years?

"Rehearsals are going to be starting soon…" Firmin informed André, gesturing towards the clock.

André did not reply. Instead he just got up and headed over to the door, closely followed by Firmin. They shut the door behind them, and headed off to the rehearsals.

"How long is it until the opening performance? About one week now isn't it?" André asked Firmin, walking alongside him.

"It was a week yesterday." Firmin said. After eighteen years of working in the Opera business he had learned how to control his nerves and therefore was not the least bit nervous for them. If truth be told he would probably shake a bit due to nerves on the night itself but this was a big improvement to how he was when he had first started the business.

The two of them reached the door to the theatre and they made their way to their usual seats, ready to watch the dress rehearsal.

-

Little did André and Firmin know that they were not alone when they were in the managers' office. A gloved hand closed over the report that they had been reading not so long ago.

The figure read through the report several times and then pieced it together with what the managers had been saying. The report was replaced exactly where it had been before the figure had moved it. There was now only one thing on the figure's mind and that was a person by the name of Christophe Jones.

-

"Why are you still looking for… whatever it is you are looking for? You should relax, come and watch the rest of the rehearsals with us." André exclaimed to Christophe.

He could not accept the offer. "I would feel to guilty gentlemen, as though I was watching the performance without paying for my ticket."

Firmin let out a sigh. "You have done enough for us by looking around this massive place to have earned your ticket!" One other thing that Firmin and André had learned over their eighteen years in this business was how to win arguments. Christophe, however, seemed to be putting their abilities to the test.

"It is my job. I would not only feel guilty for seeing the production for free but I would also feel that I was not earning my wages for my work." Both of the managers could tell that they were not easily going to sway Christophe from his decision but that did not stop them trying.

"You are a hard working man. We all are. Each of us deserves a break at some point." Firmin argued back.

"No, I am sorry, but I need to finish my search. I'm not sure if I will be seeing you two again for a while, but I am sure that we will meet again soon. Until that time I bid you farewell." With that he turned and left to continue his search, leaving André and Firmin in box one to watch the rehearsals.

The figure who had been listening from box two left at once. Christophe was heading to Carrie Daae's room. He had been intrigued by the story concerning the mirror and was sure that there was more to it than he was being told. This brought two conclusions to his mind, either no-one was telling him about what he was looking for, or nobody knew.

He entered the room and locked the door behind him. He then straight away went over to the blank spot on the wall and began to run his fingers over it. _You are being paranoid. It is a wall, nothing more, nothing less…_

Perhaps the reason why he was so determined to find out more about this Phantom was because of his missing colleagues. He needed to avenge them for what had happened to them, and he was sure that they had probably been murdered.

"One move and you're dead…" Christophe froze where he was, the cold voice rooted him to the spot. He felt a hand reaching into his inside coat pocket. He drew breath sharply and he felt the cold edge of a blade being placed against his neck.

The gun that Christophe carried with him everywhere for protection had been taken from him. "Well, well, new model, semi automatic…" Christophe could hear the clip of the gun being taken out of it, "…you must have a lot of enemies to feel you need to carry one of these."

Christophe was breathing very fast and heavily, the high cold voice was so terrifying he was surprised he was still conscious. The gun was then brought right in front of him, pointing right between his eyes. His heart beat quickened as did his breathing.

"Bang…" The voice whispered in his ear, Christophe shook slightly. The figure let out a laugh, "…you know it is not loaded."

_You just have to be fast, then you can stop him…_

"Why not take it back?" Wham! He had just been hit over the side of the head, not quite hard enough to knock him out, yet hard enough to hurt a lot, and he did not get his gun back, "What are you planning!?"

Christophe could have kicked himself. He was always being told how it showed in his face when he was planning something. Christophe felt a gloved hand close round his throat as he was pulled back up straight from the blow to the side of the head.

"Move over to the desk…" Christophe did not even consider hesitating. He walked over to the desk, the blade still pressed against his neck, "…sit down, slowly…" He did so, not even making a sound as he pulled the chair towards him to sit down on, "… now, slowly open the drawer…"

Christophe reached out to open the drawer, a dagger was pressed against the back of his hand. _Right… that means that whoever this person is has two daggers… _He opened the drawer. There were a number of different things inside, including powder make-up, which would have been perfect to use to blind this person if there was no dagger pressed against his hand.

"…take out some parchment, a quill and the ink bottle…" He did so and then placed them on the desk in front of him.

Christophe had an idea that he knew what this person was planning. _I must make it look like somebody else's handwriting._

"Now write this: _After a lot of thinking I have given careful consideration to the matter of…"_ Wham! "Perhaps I should have made it perfectly clear that I know what your handwriting looks like…"

Christophe wanted to massage his head, but knew that it would be unwise to move at all. _Whoever this person is, he is very professional._

"Let's start again shall we? _After a lot of thinking I have given careful consideration to the matter of my resignation. I am afraid that I do not feel up to this job any more. I am very sorry that I could not come and tell you this in person, but it would just be too painful to see all of your faces again. I am going to be moving out of country. I have had a hard life, and all hard working men do deserve a break at some point. I do not think I will be seeing any of you again, but you never know what the future holds do you?"_

Christophe finished putting in the question mark, and waited. His breathing had become heavier and heavier during the dictation from the figure. He waited.

"Sign it…" This was something that Christophe was expecting, he couldn't though, who knew what he would do after he had done it, "…did you not hear me? Sign it!" The last two words were shouted at him, but Christophe did not obey.

The figure pocketed his knife, then reached over and grabbed Christophe's left hand. CRACK! He had snapped not one, but two fingers. Christophe screamed in pain, and the figure quickly closed a hand over his mouth.

"Disobey again and it will be a third finger, then a fourth, then your thumb, wrist, arm and so on…" His eyes had begun to water from the pain. In the moment's hesitation the figure moved to snap another finger. Christophe quickly started to write his signature, and the figure did not snap another finger.

The figure picked up the letter and pocketed it. Not taking the blade away from Christophe's neck.

"Phantom…" The figure was surprised to hear him speak. This was the first word he had dared to utter the whole time.

"I beg your pardon detective?" He asked mockingly.

Christophe took a deep breath. "The Phantom of the Opera, that's who you are isn't it?"

The figure let out a very high laugh, yet not loud enough to let anyone hear him except Christophe. "Wrong."

_Then who the hell are you! _Thought Christophe to himself, wanting to turn round and face this man. "It doesn't matter. You are going to kill me anyway, aren't you?"

"Wrong again." The figure chuckled, then withdrew the gun from his pocket, the he also withdrew a small bottle of clear liquid and placed it in front of Christophe. "You are." He heard the gun being cocked.

"Why…?" Christophe now had tears streaming down his face, even though he thought he was emotionally stronger than this.

"You pried Monsieur Jones, and for that reason I am afraid I cannot allow you to live." Christophe felt the gun being pressed to the back of his head, "Drink, it will be quick and painless."

_If I am going to die anyway I may as well go down with a fight. _He swung round, but that was about as far as he did get. The figure had grabbed his arm and started twisting it, causing Christophe to yell in pain. The figure took his opportunity to pour the liquid down his throat.

The last thing that Christophe remembered was a pair of bright red eyes staring into his, they were alight with malice. Christophe Jones was dead. The figure took the raincoat that he had been wearing and swapped it with his cloak, then he took the fedora and put that on as well.

Then he went over to the bed and took off the sheet, wrapped Christophe in it and went over to the window. It was night-time now and so nobody could see him drop the body out into the stables below. The figure knew that the stable boys were not there. He had made sure of that.

The figure then walked as fast as he could to the entrance of the Populaire. "Christophe!" It was one of the managers. He did not stop to see which one however, he had to get out of there as quickly as possible.

"Oh… well, we can sell this ticket then, best get back to rehearsals…"

The figure was not listening, he had hurried round to the stables where the body had landed. He dragged it over to a sewer hatch. Opening the hatch he dropped the body in there, and then hurried off to post the letter that Christophe had written.

-

"Brava! Brava!" The managers applauded the entire cast. The production was absolutely amazing and they still had a week to get it even better. "Gilles… do you think it is possible that they have actually gone past perfection!?" Firmin was very excited about their performance. He had not seen one as good as this since Faust.

The only thing that he could have been a little bit picky about was Carrie Daae. It was clear that something was bothering her and so he thought it would be a good idea to go and find out what.

"Miss Daae!" He called after her, as she left the theatre and started to walk in the direction of her room.

"Bonjour Monsieur Firmin." Carrie said to him politely.

"I don't want to seem rude Miss Daae but I could not help but notice that you seem a little troubled about something…"

Carrie thought that one of the managers might confront her about this. "It is nothing really…" She paused, and then before she could help herself said, "… it's just what you said about my mother and the 'Phantom'. I know it is a stupid thing to worry about but…" she felt a lump form in her throat, "… I would have thought that she could have told me about it."

"It was nothing that you really needed to be troubled about miss." Explained Firmin. "It was stupid things really. The fool seemed to want to make sure that she got the lead role of every single production we put on. The when she left, he seemed to go with her, right after that fateful performance…" Firmin seemed to be reminiscing, "… good opera, good opera. Bloody mad though, never heard anything quite like it. I must find you a copy of it at some point. I'm sure you will enjoy singing it. Your mother certainly did."

"I will ask her about it at some point." Carrie said.

"Good, good, but until that time, cheer up. You need to put on a happy face for the opening performance…" He leaned close to her and whispered, "…another full house but don't tell anyone that I told you that."

Carrie chuckled and then turned to go to her room. "Thank you Monsieur Firmin, good night."

"Good night Miss Daae, sleep well."

Carrie turned and headed to her room, where as Firmin went back into the theatre to meet his colleague. Everybody was oblivious to the fact that the perfect murder had just taken place right under their very noses…

* * *

Authors Notes: As usual hope you enjoyed the chapter, please leave a review if you did... or even if you didnt! Next chapter will hopefully be put up on saturday, but if the documents manager is annoying again then I am sorry in advance.

R (feels wierd not putting M any more :( )


	6. A Game of Charades

Hello all, it's that time of week again! Not much else to say, except some good news, quite a few chapters have been written meaning that the story will be uploaded twice a week now as oppose to one. There will now be an update on every wednesday as well as friday. Enjoy chapter six

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Chapter 6 – A Game of Charades

Strange things, very strange things indeed were going on. One question was buzzing through the Opera Populaire. Had the ghost returned? Eighteen years had passed since the ghost had last been seen in the Opera House. Eighteen years since his reign of terror had ended.

Everything seemed to happen as soon as Christophe Jones had left. It was just small things at first. Someone would leave his room and when he got back things would have been moved around. Then everyone had a similar, uneasy feeling. People would be walking down a seemingly empty corridor and then turn around, thinking that there was somebody behind them.

Things would go missing, even though they were nothing important. Once Firmin was reading a newspaper, put it down for a mere second, and then turned to pick it up again only to find it gone.

On the other hand, Romeo and Juliet was a complete success. The opening night had gone down very well, and the subsequent performances were only getting better.

One thing in particular however was disturbing everyone. Unlike eighteen years ago when the Phantom had been at the Opera house, there always seemed to be voices coming from nowhere. During his first reign the Phantom had only spoken when he was annoyed but now he seemed to be speaking more than ever, even if not directly to anyone in particular.

If anyone was scared about this however, it was the managers. They had been on edge ever since the rumours started up again. Firmin had written to the police no less than twelve times, requesting that Christophe come back at once. Apparently however, Christophe Jones had retired and gone abroad and so because of this another detective was sent.

This new detective was a complete mystery to everybody. He had not told anybody his name. He just prowled around the place looking for something and yet nobody knew what. In fact, nobody had actually heard this new detective speak a single word.

One person however was being very calm about the whole situation. Carrie was more interested in the rumours about the Phantom than frightened of them. Whenever there was talk about him she would be there and listening. She had learned so much more about this mysterious person, such as how he had made an appearance at the Masquerade ball, and that that was the only time he had actually been seen by the public.

This brought up a lot of questions in Carrie's mind. If this ghost had only been seen once then how did the managers know that it was him that murdered Jacques Lemont? The only explanation that Carrie could think of was that Firmin wanted revenge for being threatened by this Phantom. She had heard from other people that he had had his head in a Punjab lasso and was being threatened with death if some sort of demands were not met.

"Personally I do not see how it can be the same person." Carrie was saying to Andrea. "I mean if this was indeed eighteen years ago that this happened then he must be getting on in life."

"I suppose so…" Andrea could see where Carrie was coming from, "… but you do not seem to understand that this 'Phantom' is not normal. I have heard rumours that he is 'Immortal'!"

Carrie could not help but scoff at these words. She seemed to be taking everything a bit too far if she believed this. It was farfetched to believe that 'Immortals' even existed. In Carrie's opinion this was all just wishful thinking by those who wanted to escape death.

"Miss Daae…" André had come to join in the conversation. Andrea left the two of them to talk. "I can't stay to talk for long, but I need to ask a huge favour from you…"

"And that would be…?"

"Are you returning home any time soon?" Carrie thought this was a very odd question to ask.

"Umm, I could go back any time for a visit, but there is no real rush for me to go back right now." Carrie was very willing to bet that André was about to give her a very good reason to have to return home.

"Would it be possible for you to write home or return home and ask your mother to come in for a chat? Christophe's sudden desire to retire seems to have attracted a lot of attention to the Opera House."

She was not really at all surprised to hear this request. Since her mother seemed to have some sort of connection with the Phantom it would only be natural to want to ask her about it.

"I shall write home as soon as possible. I cannot imagine her having any objections about coming in. After all this place was once her home."

"Thank you very much…" Began André, he then went on to say, "…and may I just congratulate you on the excellent performances that you have given so far in 'Romeo and Juliet'. Firmin thinks that you are giving Zurie a run for her money!"

Carrie beamed at his compliments. She had often been told that she was second only to Zurie but never by one of the managers. She had never believed anybody else that had told her. Carrie after all was a very modest person.

"Thank you very much, and may I say…"

"Shhhh…" André held up a hand to silence her. He appeared to be listening for something, "…did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Carrie asked, thinking that she must have sounded very stupid.

André did not reply. He seemed to be listening out for whatever it was that had caused him to go silent. After about half a minute of listening very carefully Carrie thought she could hear what André was talking about.

It was two voices, though it was impossible to tell where they were coming from. They were actually so far away from whoever was speaking that they could not even make out a single word of the conversation that they were having.

"It must be people from dinner just leaving the dining room…" Carrie whispered over to André, now noticing how hungry she was herself.

"Dinner has only just started!" André whispered back angrily, "… and besides, does that sound like anybody that you know?"

Carrie listened again. She felt increasingly stupid by the second, but now that she listened more carefully she could tell that she did not know the owners of those voices.

"I had best be off to dinner." Carrie said very quietly, but not quietly enough to whisper.

"Yes, hurry along. I will go and find the detective. I think it is best that he hears this for himself…" André hurried off in the direction of his office to look for the detective, whereas Carrie went in the opposite direction.

A pair of yellow eyes had been surveying the scene intently…

-

"Explain to me again…" Asked a figure in red, "… why here? Surely we could go to a much more secure location…"

A second figure dressed in black replied. "This is a much better place to go, with all the talk of the Opera Ghost's return after you took care of Christophe it is only natural that we should stay here and make sure that they keep going." The voice of this figure was very low and sinister sounding.

"But why stay here? We could just come in every so often to keep it going, not stay here full time!"

"Do not argue with me!" The person sounded so angry that it actually made the red figure flinch. "Besides, it is not my decision…"

Behind the white mask the figure in red appeared to be startled by this statement. "Who makes this decision then?"

"Don't ask me that question ever again!" The figure in red did not need telling twice.

The two of them found moving round the Opera House surprisingly easy. Whenever they heard anybody approaching them they could very easily disappear into the shadows. They walked and talked and yet they talked quietly so that they could hear the sounds of footsteps approaching.

"We only have to stay here for another few days anyway." The figure in black said, sounding as though he had had quite enough of it now.

"No need to tell me that. I'm not stupid you know…" The red figure now sounded angry, as though he was ill treated. The figure in black tried to ignore him. Something in the distance sounded.

"Hush…" They had both heard the footsteps that were heading their way. They looked at each other and silently hid in the shadows of a pair of nearby statues.

"You cannot get a bloody word out of that man. 'Come with me, I swear you will be able to hear them too.' And what happens when we get back? Nothing! He doesn't even say something like 'stop wasting my time'. I wish Christophe were here. He would listen… and speak!" It was Firmin.

"Maybe we could ask for them to send somebody else?" André replied. It was him that had told his story to the detective. Firmin just happened to be there with them at the time.

"You think I haven't already done that!? They say that he is one of their best and even if he wasn't they don't have anyone else that they can spare at the moment. There are 'Too many cases to let go of', so he is the best we will get!" Firmin was nearly shouting at André now.

"It was just a suggestion…" The two of them walked out of sight, and the figures came out of their hiding places.

"I think this is actually pointless. I mean it isn't even very good pay…" The figure in red said, punching the wall on his right in annoyance.

"There is no point being greedy. That will be your undoing if you are." The figure in black snorted.

"There is no harm in wanting to be paid a decent amount of money."

"There is if it costs you your life." The figure in black seemed to be in charge.

"I think that is just your paranoia in your old age… how old are you again?" He knew that this would make the older man angry, but that was really the reason why he said it.

"That is none of your business… I am old enough to know that too much of a good thing is too good to be true, and you would do well to remember that."

The red figure was not really listening. He could not stand it when he was being lectured about how he should live his life. "How about you live your life the way you want to and I will live my life the way I want to. Does that sound like a fair deal?"

"You do whatever you like. It is not my choice after all. Is it?"

The red figure could not be bothered to answer him back this time. They continued to walk round the opera house.

"Have you seen the production of 'Romeo and Juliet' yet?" He asked, trying to make the conversation a friendly one again.

"I'm going to go and see it tomorrow. I have heard good things about it and I think that it will be a good way to unwind. Free tickets are a bonus as well." The figure in black replied, also trying to keep the friendly conversation going.

"When you say 'free'. You mean that you are just going to sneak in and watch it, correct?"

The two of them laughed. Walking into the main entrance hall they hesitated because they knew that this was a very dangerous place to be. When they were in a corridor it was easy to tell if anyone was coming and yet in a big place like the hall, it was a much greater risk.

"You'd best go." The figure in black said to the one in red. "I will stay around here and keep the ghost charade going. Remember, three days from now…"

"I know!" He did not mean to shout but his words echoed round the hall. "Sorry, but you have told me over and over again. Until tomorrow then." He turned and left. As he went he looked over his shoulder, but the figure who was dressed in black had already vanished.

_You seem to forget that you are only here as support, this is my job and mine alone…_

-

_Mama,_

_The managers have asked me to ask you to come back to the Opera House for a police inquiry. Apparently they need to know more information about the so called Opera Ghost. Who the hell was this man anyway? Also, I was wondering if you have heard anything from Jake recently. He wrote to me not that long ago and told me that his work was bringing him to Paris._

_Wouldn't it be good if we could all get together again? Just us as a family, it would be nice considering how our last dinner together went._

_Looking forward to seeing you at the Opera House._

_Love Carrie._

"What do you think?" Christine asked Erik.

"What of? The news that I am being investigated by the police or the idea of another amazing family dinner?" Erik sounded very, very sarcastic. "Well, I will answer both of them. If they are looking for me then they are looking for the wrong man, and they are not going to get very far anyway. About this dinner, I doubt that Jake would want to come if we did have one. I cannot say that I blame him after what happened last time."

Christine looked a little disappointed by his words. "It was meant to be a pleasant surprise not an investigation into his job."

Erik was about to answer back when he thought better of it. It was his fault really that the dinner went the way that it did. He had pushed Jake too far into telling him what his job was. But this only caused Erik to think that he was doing something illegal.

"Maybe another try at a dinner would sort things out. I mean it was ages since the last one after all. Another one may be worth a shot, if it will sort things out between everyone." Christine seemed to cheer up a bit after he had said this. Erik put his arms around her.

"I love you Erik." Christine whispered to him.

"I love you too Christine."

They stood there holding each other for a long time. A loud meow then broke the silence. Looking down, Erik saw none other than...

"Porsche!" He boomed. The cat jumped up into his arms. "I think I have a feeling that I know what it is you want to tell me. So don't worry. It has already been explained."

The cat then got very annoyed. Yet there was no way for her to tell him what she wanted to, as she could not talk. Erik just waved this aside. He was not in the mood for making a trip back to the Populaire. He just wanted to stay with Christine and perhaps work a little more on his newest Opera.

Porsche resigned herself to the fact that she was not going to be able to communicate what she wanted to Erik in any way. She went into the kitchen and began to drink some milk that had been placed in Berlioz's bowl, but since Berlioz was nowhere to be seen at the moment, Porsche was sure he would not mind.

Erik was thinking. "Who do you think Jacques Lemont's killer is. I know it has been a while since his murder but it has been intriguing me…"

"Probably some maniac with a grudge…" Replied Christine, as she sat down in a chair in front of the fire place, "…apparently he had quite a lot of friends, as well as enemies."

"But why would the killer want to commit the crime in front of his wife?" Erik was sure he was being stupid over the whole thing. There was probably a very logical explanation for the whole thing.

"Because he is some sadistic person who wanted to do as much emotional damage to all those who were close to him, maybe?"

Erik could see how likely this was. After all, the same thing had been used against him in the past. His mother had used Christine to try and get to him and emotionally cripple Christine in the process.

"There is no point dwelling over it now. Whoever it is it is not our problem."

-

"We are only going to be here another week Jacob, everything will be done by then." Jake's boss said to him, trying to sound important.

"Understood, I thought we could have got this done more quickly than this." Jake replied, trying to stay on his good side this time.

"Never rush these sorts of things Jacob. You never know what you are missing out on if you do."

Jake knew exactly what this was supposed to mean and so there was no need to ask. He moved over to a cabinet in the corner of the room, opened it and took out some documents that were inside.

"I see you remembered to take them without me needing to remind you. Good…" This was one of the rare compliments that Jake did not often get form his boss. "… make sure that they get to our client in time. We will be losing out at something as will they. We must not disappoint them. Understood?"

"I understand. I will make sure that they get to them immediately."

"Good, that is all then." He then picked up some papers from his desk and placed them in the cabinet that Jake had just taken the documents from. "See you tomorrow, eight o'clock as usual."

"See you tomorrow." Jake said, then he went over to the door and left. _That's if I want to come that is…_

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Authors Notes: Again I hope you enjoyed it and I hope it has caught your interest. If so then please leave a review to let me know what you thought of it.Next update on wednesday.

R


	7. Murder on the Dance Floor

Well here ya go, I did say u wud get one on wednesdays as well. One small thing I would like ot say though it that I did not mean fridays, I meant saturdays... anyways enjoy the chap...

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Chapter 7- Murder on the Dance Floor

"How many guests have arrived so far?" The man asked, whilst putting on a bow tie and making sure that it was nicely in place.

"Around thirty, they aren't supposed to be arriving for another five minutes though…" A woman at the door replied. She picked up a couple of glasses that were on the table next to the man and took them to the kitchen to wash them up.

"And how many am I expecting?" The man then put on a black jacket and walked over to the door where the woman, who was the maid, was standing.

"Around seventy five if I remember correctly…" She brushed a bit of dust off of the left shoulder of the man's jacket.

"Excellent… they are being searched? No concealed weapons."

"Yes, there is no need to worry about that." Replied the maid in exasperation. She had always been very aggravated with how paranoid her employer was.

"You can never be too careful!" Snapped the man back at the maid, obviously noticing her tone of voice.

"I'm sorry monsieur Frelques…" The maid replied, she got paid very little as it was and did not really want another reduction in her wages.

"Well… I had better get going. After all I can't keep my guests waiting can I? That would make me look very improper." Frelques said in a very posh voice, whilst making sure that his brown hair was nice and neat.

"Very good monsieur." The maid then opened the door for him, and he went through to his party that was a celebration for his 50th birthday.

-

"Well, so much for a family get-together…" Meg said, sitting at the table in her dining room with Byron.

She was in a very bad mood as she had written to Michel to see if he would be able to make it for one dinner together and he had replied with a yes. Then about two days ago he had sent another letter saying that it would be impossible for him to make it as he had too much work to be getting along with to make the trip home.

"There is no need to be so upset by the whole thing Meg…" Byron tried to calm her down but she seemed to be in such a foul mood with him that she did not hear him, "…there are plenty of other times when I am sure he will be able to make it. One inconvenience is not the end of the world is it?"

Meg gave him a very harsh look. "But he said yes, didn't he!? Do you know how annoying it is when you are told that somebody can do something for you and then tell you they can't?"

Byron was trying to do some very quick thinking. "Yes of course I know. In case you did not know he is my son too as well as yours!"

This did not have the shock effect that Byron had intended it to have. In fact he was sure that Meg had probably ignored him. Byron busied himself with his food so that he had a good reason not to answer Meg.

"I mean he does not even like the damned job! I thought he would have been happy to get an escape route from it…" Meg started off by sounding angry, but by the end of her sentence she seemed too upset herself with her own words, "… he is always going on about how he wished he could do a better more worthwhile job than the one he is doing…"

Byron had finished his mouthful of food and now had no reason not to answer her. "I agree, he always has something to complain about it."

Meg seemed to be thinking of something else to say about her son as she took another mouthful of her food. She was about to speak with it in her mouth when she remembered just how ridiculous she would sound. She swallowed. "I can't say that I blame him… He works in a factory after all doesn't he?"

Byron nodded. He had hoped that his son would have made it further in life than a factory. However, he had neither his mother's dancing talent nor his father's singing talent and so his chances of making it anywhere in the theatre business were almost non existent.

"You have got to feel sorry for him in a way I suppose… I mean is it really his choice not to come back here to have a nice family get together?" Byron asked, but then Meg's reply made him wish that he hadn't.

"Maybe it was his choice!" Meg snapped back, almost feeling stupid that she had not thought of this before, "Maybe he just doesn't want to come back because he likes his work more than us!"

Byron let out a very big sigh. "That is not true and you know it! If he says that he has got to stay to work then he has got to stay to work, alright?"

Meg did not answer him. She seemed to now be convinced that her son would much prefer to stay and do his boring job than come home to see them. She finished her meal and took her plate and Byron's through into the kitchen, even though Byron had not yet finished his dinner. Meg returned with paper, ink and pen in her hands.

"What are you doing?" Byron asked curiously.

"I am going to write Michel a letter telling him what I think of him preferring his job over us."

Byron reached across the table and snatched the ink bottle away from her. "You are taking this much too far! You need to calm down…"

"I knew you would take his side!"

This confused Byron completely, he was not taking any sides at all. Meg got up and went to the bedroom, leaving Byron completely at a loss as to why Meg was so upset over nothing.

-

"Absolutely delighted to see you… ah monsieur Garant, a pleasure to see you again an absolute pleasure!" Frelques said to a man dressed in an evening suit.

"Thank you Samuel, and may I congratulate you on your 50th birthday …" Garant replied.

"Yes you may, as you have just done so!" The two of them chuckled at the joke. They took two glasses of wine from a waiter who was coming round.

They stood at the side of the dance floor for a while, every so often taking sips from their drinks. Everything was going smoothly from Samuel's point of view. People were dancing, chatting, laughing and generally enjoying themselves. One thing that he was not looking forward to however was the speech that he was going to have to give in around fifteen minutes time.

"I hear you are going to buy another estate in London, is that correct?" Garant asked Samuel, taking another sip from his drink.

"Where do you hear these sorts of things from my good friend?" Samuel asked, chuckling merrily as he too took another sip of his drink.

"Well, answer the question, are you going to buy another estate?" It was clear to Samuel that he was not going to be able to throw his friend off of the subject.

He sighed. "Well it is half true. I am not going to buy another estate in London… I already have."

Garant Gawped at him. "I will have to make sure that my sources are more reliable next time!"

Samuel laughed. "I am sure that they were as reliable as they could be, as you are the first person that I have told that I have already bought it."

"But why, what is the point in rushing into buying it?" Garant could not see the reason why somebody would want to buy yet another estate when they already had so many of them.

"I was advised to. I can rent it out and get a nice income from it. It is near the centre of London so prices will be high." Samuel explained. It was clear that he was not new to the property business.

"Advised by whom?" Garant asked curiously.

Frelques put on a very smug look. "I have my advisors. Just as you have your sources my dear friend… anyway getting off the subject, how is Katrina?"

Garant could see that he was not going to get a simple straight answer from his friend and so he just went with the flow of this new conversation topic.

-

The maid was not allowed to go to the party, which upset her a great deal. She still had to work however and keep the house looking as clean as she possibly could. She was very good at her job however, so she made sure that every single room of the enormous manor house was spotless.

It was when she got into the master bedroom that she noticed something was wrong. There was a spot of what appeared to be red ink on the dressing table next to the large four poster bed. The maid looked around and then noticed another spot, then another and another. They all seemed to be leading to the large wardrobe in the corner of the room.

She knew that she should just leave it alone, and that opening it would not be a wise thing to do at all. Curiosity got the better of her, however. She reached out a trembling hand to the handles of the large doors of the oak wardrobe.

"Ahhhhh…!" Her scream that she had let out was silenced at once by a gloved hand being pressed over her mouth. She was not expecting somebody to jump out and grab her.

"I don't want to have to kill you but I swear to god I will if another sound comes out of your mouth when I let go of you, understood?" The maid nodded as best she could against the grip of this person. "Good, oh and don't try to run, because I will kill you then as well."

He let go, the maid staggered forward and collapsed on the bed. "Who are you?" She whispered, very quietly so that she did not get hurt.

"There is no need for you to know that. There are only a few things that you need to know." The man replied.

The maid got up and turned to face him. He had a gun in his hands so she did not dare try and do anything heroic. The man was dressed all in black, with a hood that shadowed his face, making it impossible to tell who he was.

"And what would they be?" Her voice was shaking so badly she was surprised that this man was able to work out what it was that she was saying.

"Firstly you are going to go to the party." He began, taking a step towards her, the gun still clutched in his hand. "When at the party, you are going to create a distraction, getting the stationed police officers in the room out of it…"

The maid was trembling even more as she was being told all of this. She was not sure how she was meant to do the last instruction however. "How am I meant to do that?"

The hooded figure sniggered. "You cry murder… and when you have done so, you bring them here and show them this…"

He closed a hand over her mouth and kicked something out from underneath the bed. It was lucky that he did silence her otherwise her scream would have alerted the entire party. What she was looking at was a truly horrifying sight. What appeared to be one of the officers from the party was lying there dead, but that was not all, where there should have been eyes there were empty sockets, an open mouth showed where a tongue should have been, yet there was no tongue. The rest of the face was cut open by some sort of blade.

The maid had tears sliding down her face at the sight of it. "If you disobey these orders in anyway whatsoever you will find yourself being mistaken for this man's twin. Is that understood? Go get them here and leave the rest to me."

She nodded. "When do I do this?" She whispered.

"Right now you stupid girl, and rest assured, someone will be watching…"

There was a sound of a swish of a cape behind her, and when she turned round the man was gone. The maid then did not hesitate to go straight to the main hall. The sight of the corpse was more than enough to make her want to run for the hills but she knew that this would not be wise.

-

"Speech Samuel! Speech!" This was all he was hearing from all of the gusts that were at the party.

Samuel walked into the middle of the dance floor, which had been cleared of dancers to allow him centre stage. He did not really know where to begin, having not prepared anything even though he knew he was going to be expected to do one.

"Thank you, thank you! May I just start by saying how delighted I am to see each and every one of you here tonight? I think I will. I am delighted to see you all here tonight!" They all laughed at his witticism, "… but being serious now. Today happens to be my fiftieth birthday!" They all clapped him politely, "…and may I say that it has been a hell of a fifty years! I have had my fair share of good and bad times… but I'm not complaining, as I got to meet all of you fine people…"

"Murder!" Someone shouted from the far side of the hall. "There has been a murder!"

There was immediate panic. The police stationed throughout the hall rushed straight over to the maid who had just entered the room. After a very quick discussion three of them followed her to the bedroom, leaving two behind to ensure the safety of the guests.

_Well, I should not complain I suppose, it is easier to take out two of them rather than five. _The red figure then decided to go to work very quickly. He walk up behind the nearest officer, grabbed him around the neck and… SNAP! That was one down, leaving only one left in the hall to go. He made his way swiftly through the crowd of guests, not even noticed because of all the commotion. He was not quite as stealthy with the second officer as he was with the first one. The second police officer turned round in time to see the figure in red coming towards him. He drew his pistol, but not nearly quickly enough. His gun was knocked clean out of his hands and he was punched in the throat very hard. His larynx was smashed by the force of the blow so that he couldn't breath. In a matter of seconds he was unconscious and a few minutes later had joined his colleagues.

Nobody had noticed these two killings, but he had to make sure that the third and final one was extremely noticeable. It did not take him long to locate who he was looking for and…

"Good evening Monsieur Frelques…" He grabbed Frelques from behind and then took out a gun and pointed it all round him to keep the guests from doing anything stupid. "Sorry that your speech was interrupted, I was so enjoying it…"

The guests had fallen completely silent. They had formed a ring around the red figure and Samuel who were in the middle of the dance floor.

"Who are you?" Frelques gasped, "What do you want?"

"It is nothing personal against you Monsieur…" He put the gun away and quickly pulled out a knife. "Any last words..." Frelques opened his mouth to say something, "… I didn't think so."

He cut his throat from ear to ear. Blood began to pump freely from the severed arteries. The figure in red let go of Samuel and let him drop to the floor. People all around them were screaming, sure that they would attract the attention of the three police that went to the other part of the house. Little did they know that they were already dead.

He figure in black came back in with the girl. "Leave her here and let her be the number one witness!" The red figure shouted through his white and gold mask. He pulled out his gun to clear a path through the guests without having to kill any of them. "Oh…" He said and then turned to Frelques who was lying nearly dead on the floor in a pool of his own blood, "Happy Birthday."

The two figures ran out of the house as fast as they could. They would not have put it past one of the guests to have run and got the police. They did not think that they would be able to take on any more. Six police were enough for one night.

"Well done, well done." The red figure said to the one in black. "The three of them did not pose any threat to you I trust?"

"They didn't even see me coming… why did you tell me to leave the girl?" He could see the witness point of view, but there were a party load of witnesses that could have given statements anyway.

"It will make more of a bang in the papers, the headline '**Maid Confesses how she was Forced into Assisting Murder**' has quite a ring to it, wouldn't you say?" The two of them chuckled. "Well, be happy, we are now twenty thousand francs richer after all."

"Yes… You would have thought that with a house like that he was worth more than forty thousand francs wouldn't you?"

"I would have got all of it if you did not have to tag along." The red figure replied bitterly.

"Never forget what I told you about greed, my friend… I will see you when I next see you." He walked off into the shadows, leaving the figure in red alone with his thoughts.

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Authors Notes: Well I hope you enjoyed it and are now anxiously awaiting the next chapter. Please leave a review, and if you dont usually leave reviews... start now!

R


	8. Silence Speaks Louder than Words

Sorry that this was not up yesterday, uploading process was playing around a bit. But hey, it is being put up now, so enjoy!

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Chapter 8- Silence Speaks Louder than Words

Shock, horror and fear, these were three of the many words now racing through the minds of the public. It was now fact that there were not one but two of these maniacs on the loose. The recent death of Samuel Frelques was enough to scare the living daylights out of anyone. After all if six armed police officers could not take on two men only wielding knives then was anybody truly safe?

Erik was extremely unnerved by the whole thing. He remembered Massort who was sent by Carlotta to kill Christine. Who was to say that these two will not do the same thing? Erik was seen more often than not practicing his blade skills rather than composing his Opera.

It was true that he had been able to dispose of Massort very easily as the man was just so unprofessional. Yet these two men seemed to have much more experience than that amateur assassin did. If they could take out six armed men so easily then that was something for Erik to definitely worry about.

When not composing or training, Erik would usually be found studying newspapers with reports of 'The Two' in them. From what he could tell the two seemed to use blades more than guns, and if they did use guns it would only be for scare tactics.

A hand was suddenly placed on Erik's shoulder and he jumped. "It's me Erik." Christine said.

Erik breathed slowly to try and calm himself down. "Please don't sneak up on me like that again or you may drive me to an early grave…"

Christine wasn't sure whether she should have laughed or not. She decided that doing nothing meant that she could not do the wrong thing. "Erik why are you being so paranoid all of a sudden?" She asked, looking over the huge pile of newspapers that were on the desk he was sitting at.

"Why do you think?" He sounded as though he thought she was playing stupid just to try and annoy him, "These two are maniacs. You can never be too prepared…"

"Yes but why would they…"

"Read this!" Snapped Erik, cutting her off. He threw her one of the many newspapers that he was currently studying.

The headline was '**They Made me do it! I Swear!' **Christine did not think that she had yet read this one. It was quite a long story, which was mainly an interview with who appeared to be the maid of Samuel Frelques' manor house.

_After the shocking events of last Saturday night, police have been investigating the murder of six police officers and Samuel Frelques. Witnesses say that 'The Two', as police have now named them, were already at the party from the very start. Evidence shows that they must have snuck in. They could not have just walked in and pretended to be guests as everybody was being searched for concealed weapons. Obviously the two were very professional, managing to take out six officers without even being noticed._

_In an interview with Samuel Frelques' maid we learned more about the two and their tactics:_

"_I have never been more scared in my entire life. I thought that he was going to kill me. I was shown what was going to happen if I did not obey them. I had to watch as he mercilessly killed three police officers."_

_Police are still holding her in custody, not sure whether or not to believe her as it may 'All be a lie to deceive us…'_

The rest of the article continued over the page, but Christine had got the point.

"But what makes you think that they are going to come after us? I mean there is hardly anybody who even knows that you and I are together…"

Erik was not going to be talked down by Christine. She was rather unnerved that Erik was afraid of these two. She did not think that Erik was afraid of anything.

"But they do know us individually don't they? So what is to say that they do not come after one of us… or our children?" These last few words actually made Christine shiver at the very thought.

This had reminded Christine of something however. "Jake says that he cannot make the dinner. He has to get back to Calais as his work here in Paris is now finished."

Erik's eyes flashed, and Christine heard him mutter. "His work, tch…"

Christine rolled her eyes at this. She could not believe that he was still suspicious of Jake. "Carrie on the other hand can make the dinner."

This seemed to cheer Erik up a bit, "I think I am going to do a bit more composing…"

"Now that sounds more like the Erik that I know." She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and went into the kitchen to fill up all the cats' food bowls. Berlioz was the first to run to his, afraid that one of his siblings would eat from his bowl rather than their own.

Christine could hear the sound of the piano drifting in from the music room. Erik was not yet singing along with what he was playing. The tune sounded very sweet at first, but then developed into an angrier tune as it went on. This must have been one of the songs to Erik's new Opera 'Fires of Eden'.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Erik stopped playing the piano at once. Christine had just gone to open the door, but Erik stopped her.

"You can never be too careful…" He said and then he moved a metal loop that was at his eye level on the door, revealing a tiny piece of glass big enough to look through.

Christine had never noticed this before, she had always overlooked it. "What in god's name is that?"

Erik gave a weak chuckle. "I call it a 'spy window', we can see out but they can't see in."

"You never cease to amaze me." She said as Erik looked through the 'spy window'.

"It's Meg." Erik informed Christine.

He put the metal ring back over the spy window and opened the door, revealing a trembling Meg. She entered silently without invitation and then went straight into the kitchen to get herself a glass of water. She drank down the glass of water in one go.

"Meg?" Christine said to her friend, clicking fingers in front of Megs face. "Meg what is wrong?" Meg stared up at Christine with blank eyes.

She did not speak. She got up and went into the living room and then sat down in one of the chairs in front of the fireplace. Meg opened her mouth, tried to say something, closed it, opened it again and yet no sound was made by her.

"Has she lost her voice do you think?" Christine asked Erik, concern in her voice.

"Possibly, or she could just be in shock about something…" Erik did not sound quite as concerned as Christine, yet still sounded a little worried. "Meg? Say something… anything…"

"I…" She croaked, so quietly that it was almost impossible to hear her. No more sound came out of her mouth however.

"I think she may have lost her voice…" Erik said very thoughtfully. "But why, I cannot say."

"Ok…" Said Christine thoughtfully, whilst trying to fight back tears of concern. "Meg…" Meg looked up at her. "Just nod or shake your head to these questions…"

Meg nodded, which Christine took as an Ok. "Have you been attacked?" Erik asked. Meg shook her head.

"Have you witnessed an attack of some sort?" Meg shook her head again. Christine had tears streaming down her face and Meg gave her an apologetic look.

"Umm…" Christine said, sniffing. "Have you and Byron had some sort of argument?"

Yet again Meg shook her head. Christine and Erik looked at each other. Erik now looked very concerned whereas Christine had tears flowing down her face. All of a sudden Erik looked as though he had suddenly realised something.

"Is it something to do with 'The Two'?" Meg looked up sharply and began to wildly nod her head and point at Erik to show that he was right.

"What about them?" Christine asked, then realised that this was not a yes or no question. "Have you seen them?"

Meg shook her head. Tears had stopped streaming down Christine's face for the moment. Erik seemed to be very very interested in Meg now, which was understandable as he had been recently obsessed with 'The Two'.

"Do you know who they are?" Meg again started to wildly nod her head, yet then she held up one finger.

"Oh…" Said Christine, as if understanding what she was trying to say, "…you know who one of them is?"

Meg continued to wildly nod her head, glad that they had finally understood why she was in so much shock.

"Then why are you here?" Erik asked, realising that this was also not a yes or no question, yet he did not much care. "You should go to the police and tell them."

Christine got annoyed with having to think up yes and no questions and decided to do the sensible thing. She left the room, and about one minute later returned with paper and pen.

"Enough of this bloody 'yes and no' rubbish…" She said, half aggravated half pleased that she had come up with a solution. "Meg, we can ask you something and you can write down the answer, ok?"

Meg nodded, and then took the paper and pen from Christine. "Ok…" Began Erik, annoyed that it was her that had thought of this idea and not him. "Which one of the two do you know the identity of?"

Meg began to write with trembling hands. Christine looked over her shoulder to see what she was writing. She read the almost illegible few words…

_I don't know which one. I just know he is one._

Erik seemed to be expecting this. As soon as he had finished reading he asked his question. "So… who is it?" He was very eager to find out who one of them was. After all if he knew the identity of one then he would surely be able to work out the identity of the other.

Meg was about to start writing, but could not. She slammed the pen down on the table in front of her and sat back in her chair, tears flowing freely down her ghostly white face.

"Ok…" Said Christine, getting quite aggravated with her friend. "Just take your time Meg and write it down when you are ready."

They must have sat there for at least another fifteen minutes, during which Erik got quite tired of waiting and went to make them all a cup of tea. At last however, Meg seemed ready to write the name down. She picked up the pen and the paper.

She wrote it very fast and then handed the name to Christine. She stared at it with wide eyes. "Are you sure?" She asked, looking over at Meg, who nodded her head.

Without warning she bolted out of the door. Christine ran after her in a hurry, dropping the piece of paper in the living room. Erik was left there alone. It had all happened so quickly that he had hardly had any time to take in everything that had happened.

He walked over to the piece of paper that Christine had dropped before running after Meg. He picked it up, unfolded it from where Christine had screwed it up, and read.

"No…" He said, staring at the name on the paper. "How the hell can you be sure of that woman!?"

He dropped the piece of paper and then ran after Christine and Meg, eager to ask more questions. There were too many things that did not make sense at the moment, too many things that needed to be explained yet weren't.

The piece of paper bearing one word lay there forgotten, at least until Minouche the cat came along. She felt it would be fun to start playing with this little piece of paper that had the word 'Michel' written on it.

-

"Unbelievable, absolutely unbelievable…" Firmin said, reading the newspaper with yet another headline about the murder of Samuel Frelques. He took a sip of coffee, which happened to be so hot that it blistered the roof of his mouth. Firmin yelped in pain.

"It does make you wonder if anyone is truly safe doesn't it?" André said to Firmin, who was still trying to cool his mouth down. "I mean think, if there are now two of them then who can we trust."

"I don't see if we know who to trust even if there was only one of them." Firmin said, André privately agreed with him.

There was however one small improvement. The rumours of the Opera Ghost had died down a fair bit. All of the strange things that seemed to be happening not so long ago seemed to have stopped right after Frelques' murder. This however just seemed to heighten the two managers' beliefs that one of the murderers was indeed the Phantom.

"That detective has still been ordered to stay here though. In fact I think that is the first thing that I have ever heard him say, 'I have been ordered to remain here'." Firmin could not see why he had to stay. He was keen to hear André's opinion of this.

"Do we even know his name yet?" He asked, still at a loss to understand why this man was so mysterious.

"No… he must have been in the business way too long and either become too paranoid… or he can't even remember his name himself."

They chuckled at the joke. There was then a knock at the door.

"Come in…" They shouted at the same time.

The door opened but there was nobody there. Firmin walked over to the door and looked out. Still he saw nobody, but then he looked down, and saw to his utter horror something that he was hoping to never see again in his entire life.

"What is it?" André asked, unable to see what Firmin was looking at.

Firmin picked up the object, then closed the door and headed back over to the desk which André was sitting at. "This must not go any further than the two of us…"

He then placed what he was holding on the desk. André thought that he was going to faint, as he was looking down at a yellow envelop sealed with a blood red wax skull…

-

"I'm not made of money you know! I don't really think that it is worth quite that much anyway. Either you lower the price or I will have to look elsewhere!" Argued a very angry male voice.

"I can assure you Monsieur that you will not be disappointed…" Came a slightly sinister sounding voice from the opposite side of a desk.

The man considered something in his mind. He looked across at the figure on the opposite side of the desk. "Cut the price by five thousand francs and we have a deal."

The figure laughed. "With all the recent events taking place I have plenty of other clients requiring my services…"

It was now the man's turn to laugh. "With all the recent events taking place eh? Well I am sure that your 'Plenty of other clients are more than likely also pressed for money. So you my good monsieur will probably be out of business in no time…"

The figure let out a very long sigh. "Monsieur…" He began, in a much more polite tone than he had used just a moment ago, "…I have offered you a perfectly good deal, my advice to you is to accept it. You will find no better services elsewhere."

The man began to do some very serious thinking. He was quite financially stable at the moment, and making this deal would probably be the best thing to do. All things still considered however, it was still a very steep price.

"Lower the price by four thousand francs and we have a deal…" This must have been a bit of a more reasonable request than lowering it by five thousand.

"Monsieur, when are you going to realise that my price is not negotiable. I am not going to reduce it or increase it at all and so if I were you I would just take the offer while you still have the chance." The figure sounded as though he was trying to stay calm and be patient with the man, as that would be the way he would win him over. "Otherwise if you do not want to pay that much and feel you can get a 'better' deal elsewhere then could you please leave?"

The man did not move. He just sat there thinking. If what this man was saying was true then he would just be wasting valuable time by trying to find someone else to secure this deal with. Yet if he was lying, wouldn't that be a heavy blow to him financially?

"You have seen what it is you are investing in, surely that had made you see that it is worth the cost?"

The figure then took out a piece of paper which looked as if it were a contract. The man looked down at it, took it, and read everything there was on it. This took him a good five minutes. He did after all have to make sure that there was no fine print that he could overlook.

"Deal…" He said, signing on the bottom line.

"Very good." The figure said, taking the contact from the man and examining the signature at the bottom. "Well then…"

They both stood up, and the figure showed the man the way out. "It has been a pleasure doing business with you."

"And it had been a pleasure doing business with you too, a great pleasure indeed Monsieur Larogue…"

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Authors Notes: As usual hope you liked it, im not going to beg for reviews so just leave one if you want to. Next update will be on wednesday...

R


	9. A Little White Lie

Well everyone, it is my pleasure to inform you that the sequel is now finished (30 chapters long and over one hundred thousand words)! Do not get to excited though, you are still only going to get updates on wednesdays and saturdays. But at least you will have the comforting thought of knowing i am not going to give up on it. Enjoy chapter 9...

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Chapter 9- A Little White Lie

Things had not improved a bit over the past few weeks. Meg had not said one word, which concerned everybody around her, especially Byron. What was concerning both Christine and Erik the most however was that Meg had somehow come to the conclusion that the killer in red was her own son.

There were many reasons why Christine and Erik had not dared tell Byron this of course. One was the fact that they were sure he would not believe either of them. The other reason was that they did not feel that it was their place to do so as it was Meg's, if she ever found her voice again.

Ever since Meg had told them that she thought that Michel was the killer, both Erik and Christine had been working together to try and think what possible reasons Meg might have for believing such a thing. Christine had suggested that she must have had some sort of argument with him, whereas Erik suggested that she had just got annoyed with him for not visiting her and Byron for so long, and therefore blamed it on him out of spite.

They both seemed to have come to a silent agreement that Meg was just jumping to the wrong conclusion and had both had conversations with Byron to try and inconspicuously find out if anything had happened between Meg and Michel recently, but from what they had managed to get out of him it seemed that everything was perfectly normal.

Christine could remember only too clearly, the day that Meg had told them that she thought her son was a killer. Today however, this was not the most pressing subject at hand. Christine had a much bigger thing to worry about than false accusations.

She was in her and Erik's bedroom, getting ready to go out and was studying her reflection in the mirror, making sure that she looked her absolute best. For today was the day that she was returning to the Opera Populaire for a very different reason than seeing the latest production that they had put on.

Of course she had been to see Romeo and Juliet because she had promised Carrie. Every time she went back however, she always remembered the fateful performance of 'Don Juan Triumphant'.

Christine had not however told Erik about having to go to the Opera House. This was because of the reason that she was needed. If Erik heard that she needed to go back to answer questions about 'The Phantom' she did not know how he would react.

Christine was just about satisfied with her image. She took a rose from the desk that was in the corner of the room and placed it in her hair. She thought that this would make her look even better. Then she considered how the police may question her about this, as the Phantom was known to have had a habit of leaving red roses around the place. Christine decided to wear it in the end as she used to have one in her hair quite often when she lived at the Opera House.

Erik was downstairs composing more of his Opera. If Christine could sneak out without him noticing then she could leave, come back and then say that she had gone to check up on Meg. She crept downstairs and then tiptoed over to the door as quietly as she possibly could. Christine knew that she had failed however when she stepped on something very fluffy.

Meow! Erik stopped playing the piano at once and then bolted out into the kitchen to see what all the commotion was about. When he saw Christine halfway to the door he looked as though he was trying to work out where she was going, without success.

"Going somewhere?" He asked, looking half smug that he had caught her, yet at the same time half upset about the idea of her trying to sneak off without his knowledge.

"Umm, yes I was just going to…" Christine was going to tell him that she was going to see Meg, but now that she was face to face with him she could not lie. "…I am needed at the Opera House."

Erik looked a little puzzled at this sudden announcement. "Needed at the Opera House… why?"

Christine felt that it would be both easier and better to show rather than tell, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a letter addressed to her. She began to read it aloud to Erik. "Mother, I am sorry to have to ask this of you, I know you have much better things to be doing with your time, but I have been requested to ask you to come to the Opera House for a short interview concerning 'The Phantom'." Christine paused for a minute to let Erik take this in. "If you ask me they are wasting their time as the man does not seem to exist, but that is their choice, time and date is on the back of this letter. Again I am sorry to have to ask this of you, Love Carrie."

Erik took the letter from her to look at the time and date on the back. "Why didn't you tell me?" He sounded very melancholy.

"Because I didn't want to worry you with something like this…" Christine replied very quickly. "…and I thought you would be angry."

"Christine…" Erik began, "… if anything is going to make me angry it is going to be you not telling me what is going on… it upsets me."

Christine put her arms around him. "I'm sorry…" Letting go of him she checked her watch. "I must go. I don't want to be late."

Erik did not feel the need to ask her not to say anything about him. "Ok, I'll see you when you get back…"

She turned and left. Erik did not feel like going back to his composing, so he decided to pore over more newspapers concerning 'The Two'…

-

"Miss Daae! Delighted to see you again! "Boomed Firmin as he welcomed Christine into the familiar entrance hall.

"Thank you monsieur. I only wish it were on a brighter subject…" Christine replied to Firmin's greeting.

"I couldn't agree more Miss Daae." Said André, walking up to Christine and shaking her hand in a friendly gesture, "…but wouldn't you rather get this all resolved?"

"We can only try can't we?" The two managers nodded at Christine's statement, then proceeded to show her to the familiar managers' office.

The Opera house did not seem to have changed much. The only thing that appeared to be different was that the decorations on the walls had all been changed, such as the paintings and the lamps.

Christine passed several people that she had never seen before in her life who she assumed worked or lived at the Populaire. There was no sign of Carrie at all, which was unfortunate because Christine really wanted to have a word with her.

Someone that Christine did run into however was Porsche. Christine saw her lurking in one of the shadowy corners of a hall, only distinguishable by her yellow eyes. There was one person however who Christine was very unnerved by, and that was a man who she assumed was a detective. He was standing outside the managers' office, smoking a pipe.

"You would not believe how many times we have told him to do that outside. He won't listen though…" Firmin explained to Christine, opening the door to their office, "… André and I have come to the conclusion that he must be deaf…"

Christine entered the room to find another man who she assumed to be yet another detective in there waiting for the three of them. André closed the door behind them and then went over to sit behind his desk. The detective stood by his chair.

"Ok, I suppose that there is no point beating about the bush. Please take a seat…" Began the detective in a low voice. Christine sat down opposite André yet the detective remained standing, "… I would like to ask you a few questions about a certain individual who calls himself 'The Phantom of the Opera'."

"Please continue." Said Christine in a very casual tone of voice.

The detective did not waste any time after she had said this. "Do you have any idea as to the whereabouts of this man?"

Christine shook her head, and then followed that up by saying. "I never have."

"Ok…" Began the detective, "… have you ever had any sort of contact with him?"

"Apparently I have, but whenever it was I can't remember a thing…" Christine looked over at the managers, "… surely you have already told him this?"

"We have, but he didn't seem to believe us. He wanted to hear it from you." Firmin informed Christine.

"Then what is the point in this interview if you already know everything that I am going to say!" Christine snapped at the detective, getting very annoyed.

André opened his desk drawer, took something out of it, and then closed it again. "We have very good reason to believe that the Phantom is back, Miss Daae…"

He showed her what he was holding. Christine had to try and stop herself from screaming in rage when she saw that he was holding an envelope which was sealed with a blood red wax skull.

"We just need to get all of the information that we possibly can…"

"You are wasting your time…" Christine said quite bitterly. She reached out a hand to take the letter from André, to her surprise he did not pull it back out of her reach.

Christine read through the letter several times, and then she got up very suddenly to her feet.

"Where are you going?" Firmin called after her as she headed to the door.

"It is obvious to me that there was no need for you to bring me here in the first place. I am sorry messieurs but I must bid you farewell… oh, and can I keep this?" She finished, holding up the letter and the envelope.

"Certainly…" Replied André, then opened his drawer again, "…it isn't as though we have not got enough already…"

He then held up no less than five more skull sealed letters. Christine left the room straight away after this, determined to get home and confront Erik about this immediately.

She was storming through the Opera House in such a rage, that she was shocked when she suddenly ran straight into…

"Carrie!" Christine flung her arms around her daughter, momentarily forgetting about her anger.

"Nice to see you again mother." Carrie said, trying to free herself from Christine's grip. "How did the interview go?"

All of the previous emotions that Christine had been feeling suddenly came back to her in a flood of rage. "To be quite honest with you it was utterly pointless." She replied, bluntly.

"Oh, I am sorry…" Carrie sounded a tiny bit hurt, obviously thinking that Christine was annoyed with her.

"It's not your fault. You were only asked to pass on a message, and I am not blaming you." Christine put her hands on Carrie's shoulders. "Any idea what the next production is going to be?"

Carrie shook her head. "No idea… anyway I have got to go. See you soon mother."

"Bye Carrie." They both walked in opposite directions, Christine had to resist the urge to sprint right out of the Opera House and back to the cottage. She knew of course that this would be a very stupid thing to do as it would look so suspicious.

-

"Ok, so I should have just listened to you…" The detective said to the managers.

"You will not be able to talk to her again now. You have lost your chance." Firmin said to him.

"Waste of time, we could have been finding a suitable opera for the next production, but no, you had to question Miss Daae…" André sounded very annoyed. He was reading one of the many letters that he had been sent by 'The Phantom'.

"Well, I will not trouble you again unless it is something very important. Good day to you gentlemen…" He left, leaving the managers by themselves.

"Let's hope you don't have to trouble us again then…"

-

_So if that took place on that day, then it would only make sense if…_ Erik was thinking about the two again, trying to piece a load of dates together, trying to make sense of everything that had been going on.

"Erik!" Christine shouted, crashing the door open and walking very quickly into the music room where she knew he would be.

She entered the room in an absolutely fuming state. She was surprised to see that he was not composing but in fact looking at newspapers again. Erik looked up from the paper that was in front of him to look at Christine.

"Yes?" Erik said in a very casual tone that infuriated Christine even more. She started to breathe very heavily. "Is something wrong?"

"Wrong!?" Christine shouted back in a very angry yet sarcastic tone. "Oh no, there is nothing wrong!"

"Then why the hell are you shouting?" Erik asked, though he knew that Christine was being sarcastic.

"You know…" Began Christine, sounding as though she was thinking carefully about what she was saying, "…I don't know why you wanted to send Porsche to the Opera House… or was that just a cover-up?"

Now Erik was confused, he did not have any idea what Christine was trying to say. "Is there something you want to tell me Christine?"

Christine took the letter out of her pocket and waved it about in front of her. She was doing this so quickly that Erik could not see the skull on it. "This! This is what you want to explain to me I think!"

She threw the letter at Erik. He caught it, and could now clearly see the skull which had sealed the envelope. He took the letter out from the envelope and began to read what it said.

_My dear Managers,_

_Have you missed me? Fear not for I have returned to you at last. I think that a few reminders are in store, my salary of twenty thousand francs a month will be left for me in box five as usual. I will decide myself on the next production gentlemen, so there is no need to trouble yourselves with that. On the note of productions, your pianist seems to be past his prime. Sack him immediately, for your own good as well as his._

_I remain gentlemen, your obedient servant._

_O.G_

Erik looked down at the letter with wide eyes. Christine seemed to think that he was only acting though.

"Shocked to see your own letter?" Christine asked him.

Erik looked up from the letter straight into Christine's eyes. "I didn't write this." He said, very seriously. "This is the first time I have ever seen this letter."

Christine scoffed. "It's your handwriting!"

Erik looked back down at the letter and started examining the handwriting very carefully. It did look extremely similar to his handwriting, but it could not be his handwriting, after all he had not written it…

"No it isn't, this is somebody trying to copy my handwriting…" Erik argued, looking back up at Christine. She seemed to be wondering whether to believe him or not.

"The twenty thousand francs a month?" She asked, her voice sounding much more polite than it had done previously.

Erik pondered his answer. "Lots of people must have known that I asked for twenty thousand francs a month… I mean think how many people the managers must have told!"

Christine could see exactly where Erik was coming from. Yet there were still things that needed explaining. " 'I remain gentlemen, your obedient servant, O.G'?"

This took a little time for Erik to work out. "Somebody must have got hold of one of the letters and seen how I signed them… that would also explain how someone managed to copy my handwriting…"

Everything was now starting to make sense. Christine was trying to see if there was anything else that seemed out of place.

"What about…"

"Christine…" Erik said, getting to his feet and looking her straight in the eyes, "… would I lie to you?"

This question made her feel extremely guilty. Erik seemed to notice this, yet that did not stop him from repeating himself.

"Please answer me… would I lie to you? Or better still do you think I could lie to you?"

"No." Christine replied simply, looking down at the floor as she was unable to look at Erik.

"Exactly…" Erik said, tilting her chin up so he could look into her eyes. "So let's start being sensible and try to work out who it is that did this, eh?"

"Yes…" Christine said, sniffing.

"I think I have a pretty good idea who it might be already…" Erik informed Christine, who looked amazed at this.

"Really?" She asked, her mood changing at once. "Who?"

"One of these two…" He replied, picking up one of the many papers that were on the desk and handing it to Christine for her to look at. This latest one had a police sketch of the description of the killer. Now that Christine saw this sketch it was hard to believe that she ever thought it was Erik in the first place.

"And what makes you think that it is one of these two?" Christine asked.

Erik started to explain a very long theory about how these two linked in with the death of Frelques, Jacques Lemont, Paris and the Opera House, for at least half an hour he went on with lots and lots of different possible explanations for all of the events that had been taking place. By the end of it Christine was completely confused, leaving her with only one thought in her mind.

_You are becoming completely obsessed, Erik…

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Authors Notes: Please leave a review as usual, I would like to know what you think of it so far. Next update on saturday and I hope you enjoyed this one!_

R


	10. Obsession

Well here it is, the next chapter is up and running. And for those of you who are interested, the story's word count is 107198 words. Enjoy chapter 10...

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Chapter 10- Obsession

It was one morning, a few weeks after Christine had been to the Opera Populaire and Carrie was lying in bed, thinking. 'The Phantom of the Opera' was all that had been on her mind for quite a while now. She had been going over and over things in her head, trying to figure out who this man could possibly be.

Carrie had actually gone as far as sneaking into the managers' office in the dead of night to see if there was any information about this man in there. The only thing she could find that was of any interest however, was a bunch of letters, all sealed with a red skull and all signed O.G.

It did not take her long to work out what O.G stood for. She had heard a lot of the girls refer to the phantom as the 'Opera Ghost'. This did not really bother her though. All that she was worried about was who the Phantom or Ghost was.

Carrie had heard enough stories to know about all of the different people this Phantom had terrorised. One thing that she felt would help her in her investigation was the story about the old conductor, 'Monsieur Reyer'. Rumour had it that he had decided to leave because he did not have the nerve to stay around and wait to be killed, like the old stage manager, 'Joseph Bouquet'.

She at last decided to go and speak to Jean about when he first took up the conductor's job. He would be somebody to talk to who she was sure would tell her the facts and only the facts, not the wild rumours that everybody else came out with.

Getting up, Carrie made her way out of her room and towards the dining room, as it was time for breakfast. She was sure that Jean would be here along with everybody else. Carrie was very pleased to see that she was correct. He was sitting in his usual place at the far end of the huge refectory table.

There was nobody sitting next to him, so Carrie decided to go and sit in the seat next to him so that she could have a quiet word with him.

"Good morning Carrie." He said to her in a very jolly voice. It was clear that he was a morning person.

"Hello Monsieur LeRoi." She replied, sitting down in the empty seat that was next to him.

"Are you alright?" He asked, looking concerned for her, "It looks as though something is troubling you…"

Any other person with something on their mind would have denied that there was anything wrong, yet Carrie was eager to get what was on her mind out into the open.

"Well, actually…" She began, turning her face towards him, "…there is something that I would like to ask you…"

"And that would be?" Jean asked, in a polite tone.

Carrie was afraid that other people were going to hear their conversation. However everybody else seemed to be too engrossed in conversations of their own to take much notice of the two of them talking.

"I would like to ask you what you know about the Opera Ghost…" Carrie said, not sure how Jean was going to react to these words.

"Well…" Began Jean, "… I know he is the reason that I got this job, otherwise I would be working elsewhere…"

Carrie was astonished that Jean had actually been told that it was the ghost that had scared off the previous conductor. She had however considered this unlikely possibility.

"Please continue. I would like to know as much as possible about the Phantom…"

-

"Two deaths… one mysterious resignation…" Erik muttered to himself, whilst writing notes on a piece of paper which was on the desk in front of him.

It was just like Christine had said. The mystery of 'The Two' had become an obsession with Erik. Somehow, however, he still seemed to be able to find time to compose his latest opera 'Fires of Eden'.

Christine could not see how he could possibly cope with these two things at once and still have time to practice his blade skills. At the moment however, Christine was not in. She was round at Meg and Byron's house to check up on her friend. Meg still had not uttered a single word.

This meant that Erik was alone and he could concentrate more easily on the papers he was studying. He threw down his pen on the desk, rubbed his eyes, and then started to mutter to himself.

"Unbelievable that there can be so many witnesses and not one of them saw either of their faces…" Erik started to drum his fingers on the desk top.

He then noticed the most recent newspaper, which had only been purchased the previous day. The headline was enough to give Erik the inspiration he needed to carry on his own investigation. **Detectives still searching the Frelques estate…**

This gave Erik a fantastic idea. It was so obvious that he was shocked at his own stupidity in not thinking of it sooner. He was going to go to the Frelques' manor and see for himself whether or not there was anything that might give him a clue as to the identity of the two, or possibly lead him to them.

He suddenly got up from the desk and headed to the bedroom. He got changed into something warmer as it was very cold outside, this included putting on a hooded cape that he hardly ever wore. Erik knew that if there were going to be detectives there searching the scene of the crime then he did not want to be seen, as, according to Christine, he was apparently a suspect.

The fact that she was not in made everything so much easier. He did not want to trouble her with what he was planning. She would probably tell him that this 'Obsession' of his was starting to get out of control. Erik probably would not listen to her even if she did say all of this, yet he felt that avoiding all of her unnecessary nagging would be better.

He left the house. By this time he had read so many different newspapers that he knew the exact location of Frelques' manor. He headed off in the direction of the manor on foot as it was not too far. He had to be careful to stay out of sight however, as he was sure that with his hood up like it was he looked very similar to one of 'The Two'.

-

Carries head felt ready to burst. Jean had told her so much information about the Phantom that she had not heard before she was nearly skipping as she walked. One piece of information in particular had piqued her interest the most. She had been told that the Ghost lived beneath the opera house before and yet what she had been told by Jean was far more interesting.

According to Jean, there was a woman who claimed she knew where an entrance to the lair was. What was even more interesting was that Jean knew where this entrance was. It was the statue of the right side of the grand staircase as you walked down them.

Another thing however was the fact that this woman, whoever she was, only seemed to be able to open up this passageway once and had made herself look very stupid when she tried to open it again. Carrie was told that in order to open the passage you had to press the two eyes of the statue to the back of its head, which revealed the passageway.

None of the other people who lived in the Opera House actually believed this story and yet Carrie thought that it would be worth a try. She thought that anything would be worth a try if it meant she would learn more about the Phantom.

Entering the large entrance hall Carrie immediately made her way over to the statue which Jean had told her would get her to the Phantom's lair. She examined it and it looked just the same as its twin statue which stood on the other side of the staircase.

Carrie reached both of her hands up to the eyes of the statue and pressed as hard as she could against them. They did not seem to be able to move. Carrie thought how stupid she must look pressing the eyes of this statue to the back of its head.

She was brought back to her senses when a familiar voice hit her ears.

"Please don't tell me that you believe that is an entrance?" It was Andrea, not that Carrie was really listening to her.

"I believe that it may once have been an entrance and that when the Phantom left he made sure that it was sealed…" Carrie was expecting Andrea to laugh, but she was surprised, as all Andrea did was let out a very long sigh.

"I'm worried about you Carrie…" Andrea confessed, taking a step closer to her friend, "…you are chasing something that does not exist…"

"I am not saying that it does exist. I am saying that it must have existed once." Carrie argued back. "Who was the woman that claimed she found a passage down to his lair anyway?"

"Catherine Beaumont." Andrea said. Carrie recognised the surname at once and thought that it would be a very good idea to talk with Zurie about this later. "But Carrie, please promise me that you are going to stop thinking about the Phantom. It's become an obsession of yours and obsessions are not healthy."

"You know that I am not going to be able to promise you that." Carrie replied, then patted her friend on the shoulder and walked off.

_Did it exist? It must have. I mean that woman would not have just made the whole thing up…_

-

Erik was standing a very good distance away from the manor. From what he could see there were no less than three policemen and three detectives searching the grounds outside it, meaning that the task of getting inside was not going to be an easy one at all. Erik studied the movements of the police. Three of them seemed to be guarding every entrance to the house, whereas the three detectives seemed to be searching the grounds for any clues.

The detectives did not seem to be very difficult to sneak past, yet it was getting into the actual building which was going to be the biggest problem. Erik knew that he was going to have to create some sort of a diversion in order to get inside. He seemed to be very fortunate however as one of the detectives requested the help of two of he policemen, meaning that one of the entrances to the manor was free for Erik to walk in through.

He did not much care what the detective wanted the policemen for. His main objective would be to see if there was anything that would help him identify 'The Two'. Erik thought back to all of the newspapers that he had read. He knew that the actual murder had taken place in the main hall.

Upon entering the hall however, he saw that there was absolutely nothing of interest to see. There was movement from the other side of the hall and Erik quickly hid behind a column so as not to be seen.

Thinking that this was probably going to be the place where most of the detectives would be searching, Erik wracked his brains and tried to decide where would be best to go next. He finally came to the conclusion that the best place to go now would be the master bedroom.

He knew the layout of the house very well, due to reading so many papers and therefore had no trouble at all in finding his way. Upon entering the bedroom he saw that it was a very large room indeed. For some reason Erik felt very uneasy about being in there, he kept glancing over towards the bed, remembering what was under there on the night of the murders.

Erik went over to the window and looked out of it. He saw that the detectives were examining something on the ground which Erik could not see. Erik then stared straight forward, expecting to see nothing, yet he saw something in the reflection of the window, something that would have made any normal man scream in terror.

He drew his sword which he had taken with him for safety as fast as he could, wheeled around and was placing the blade against the neck of a man whose face he could not see.

Erik was breathing very heavily and yet he had this man at his mercy. Erik had an instinct that this was one of the people he wanted to meet. He just fitted the descriptions too perfectly.

"Who are you?" Erik asked, very calmly considering the situation.

"I was about to ask you the same question…" The voice answered in a very low sinister tone.

"Too bad, I asked you first… you are one of 'The Two' aren't you?" Erik had come to this conclusion very quickly, and when it was confirmed her planned to find out more about him.

"That is just a name that the media decided to make up for my friend and I. May I say that our actual titles are quite different…" The man seemed to be very calm considering the position that he was in.

"What is your name then?" Erik asked, starting to get quite annoyed with him.

The man chuckled. "My name is 'Wraith'…" Erik was a bit taken aback by this name. It was too similar to 'Phantom' to be a mere coincidence.

"Ok then Wraith…" Erik began, making sure that the blade was still pressed firmly against Wraiths neck, "…why have you returned to the scene of the crime?"

"Why do you think? To make sure that they do not find any evidence that we may have forgotten to clean up…" He made it sound so obvious that Erik nearly felt like kicking himself.

"Not expecting to run into someone like me I bet?" Erik asked, feeling quite proud of himself for being so prepared.

"Which brings me back to my question, who are you?" Erik had forgotten that his face was also in shadow. It appeared that Wraith was wearing a mask as well as his hood. Obviously to make sure his face was not seen.

"I don't think that you are in a very good position to be asking questions…" Erik said, laughing.

"Well…" Began Wraith, "…please allow me to ask one more question, and think carefully about your answer… why do you think I am telling you all of this?"

Erik knew he was referring to his name and reason for being at the manor. "Because you would be a fool to disobey someone who is holding a sword to your throat?" Erik thought that this sounded like a very logical answer.

"No…" Began Wraith and without warning, he did a perfect back-flip away from Erik, kicking at the sword while in mid air. Erik only just managed to hold on to the sword.

Erik looked over at Wraith who had unsheathed a double ended sword. Erik looked at it, a bit afraid.

"…because they are sure that they will win…" He struck. Erik only just managed to block the blow in time before it stabbed him in the chest.

Even though Erik had been practicing his blade skills for a scenario such as this, he had never envisioned that his opponent would be wielding a double ended sword.

Erik found it very difficult to be able to read his opponent's movements, meaning that several times he nearly had his head cut off. He was sure that all of the noise they were making would attract the attention of the police that were downstairs.

It was just as Erik swiped at Wraith from the side that he noticed that Wraith had a gun. _Why the hell did you not just kill me with that!?_

Erik blocked about six attacks thrown at him by Wraith in a row. This caused him to end up standing very close to the desk. He seized the chair to his side, pushed it in front of him and kicked at it with all his might. It went flying towards Wraith, and he only just managed to dodge it.

"You think you are going to be able to beat me with cheap tricks like that!?" Wraith cried out, giving a high false laugh which did not suit his voice at all.

"It is a mystery to me…" Erik began, giving a very violent uppercut with his sword, "… as to how you are so sure you can win."

Wraith swung one end after the other at Erik, causing the swords to lock. Erik then seized the opportunity to head butt Wraith as hard as he could. He almost immediately wished that he had not, as the mask that Wraith was wearing appeared to be very hard as opposed to the soft masks that Erik used to wear.

This attack seemed to stun Wraith. Erik recovered from the pain that was caused from the attack and took his chance to kick the sword out of his hands, causing it to fly towards the window.

Wraith was on his back, crawling towards the window to retrieve his sword. Erik still could not work out why he did not use the gun that he had attached to his belt. He had to stop Wraith before he got to his sword however. He raised his blade above his head ready to strike.

Erik then felt a terrible pain shoot through his right hand. He was about to attack as soon as he had recovered, yet Wraith had already smashed the window and jumped out of it. Erik was sure that the fall would kill him, yet he was wrong. He could see him running off into the distance, the police and detectives that were there earlier had moved.

It then struck Erik why Wraith had not killed Erik while he was vulnerable. "Don't move!"

As if Erik was going to obey this order, he ran to the window and jumped out of it like Wraith had done, yet unlike wraith he grabbed some ivy that was growing on the walls on his way down. This did not cushion his fall completely, yet it reduced the damage he would have suffered if he had not grabbed the ivy considerably.

Erik did not hesitate to run as fast as he could to get away from the police. He had to get back home, and at the same time make sure that he was not followed.

_What am I going to tell Christine…?_

_

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_

Authors Notes: As per usual i hope that you liked it. And an interesting fact, if everyone who read this left a review then by the end of the story there would be well over one thousand... (see the hidden message there? lol). Next update on wednesday.

R


	11. News of Sorrow

I have decided that since the book is finished i am going to upload the chapters every other day. So be happy that you are getting them more often than usual. Enjoy chapter 11...

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Chapter 11- News of Sorrow

"I've had enough…" Jake said, putting some folders in the cabinet in the corner of his boss's office.

"What's that?" His boss called back, obviously not quite hearing what Jake had said.

Jake had just about had enough of his job, day in day out he was bossed about by this man, and he had just about had enough of it…

"I'm resigning." He informed his boss, not quite sure how he was going to take this sudden change of heart.

"Resigning!" Shouted his boss, getting up from his chair and looking down at Jake, "…you can't resign! The deal says that you are here until at least the end of the year…"

Jake groaned. "Well to hell with the deal!"

His boss seemed to be getting very agitated with him now. "I can take legal action against you if you resign you know!?" Jake obviously knew this, but did not seem to really care. "Besides, why do you want to quit all of a sudden?"

Jake was going to say 'He was tired of being bossed around', but to be fair the tasks he was asked to fulfil were not exactly unreasonable. Jake tried to think of a better excuse. "Because I am just too tired from doing this job…"

He then realised just how stupid this must have sounded, after all the job was not very physically demanding at all. "Just carry on for another month or so will you? Just so you can make sure it is what you want…"

Jake nodded his head, then went back to the filing that he was doing, as there were a lot of folders to get through. "How far is the next client?"

"Not too far, he is a local…" Replied his boss, happy that Jake was again focusing on his work. "No need to worry about that though, we do not need to pay a visit for a while yet…"

-

… _the salary that I request now is twenty five thousand francs a month, I am sure that you will not disobey as you know what happens if you do._

_O.G_

Carrie read through this letter for at least the tenth time. She could not make sense of why this person would need so much money. Twenty thousand francs a month must have been more than enough to see this person through life. Twenty five was just being too greedy.

Her obsession with the Phantom had been growing stronger and stronger. She did not know why she felt it was so important for her to learn about this man, but somehow it just felt like the right thing to do.

Carrie was planning on going back to the managers' office in the evening to see if she could take another letter to study. She felt a twinge of guilt each time she replaced the previous letter and took a different one. She thought that she may be considered a thief.

She decided that at some point she would go to Firmin and ask him for the Phantom's opera. It would surely give her a lot of insight as to who the Phantom may be. Carrie went over to her door and went out through it. She was just heading off in the direction of the managers' office when she saw somebody that she thought would be even better to talk to.

"Zurie!" She called down the corridor, noticing her at the end of it. Carrie ran down the corridor to meet her, "… hello Zurie, I was just wondering if you can…" Carrie noticed that something was not right with her, "…talk."

Zurie appeared to be very upset about something, even though she was not crying she still looked as though she was on the verge of tears.

"Oh…" Zurie sniffed, "…hello Carrie, sure I will talk." Carrie noticed that Zurie was holding a letter in her right hand. "What would you like to talk about?"

Carrie did not answer. She was too worried about Zurie to care much about the Phantom at the moment. "What is wrong with you Zurie?"

Zurie felt that it would sound very stupid to say nothing, but did not really feel like telling Carrie what was wrong. "Nothing important, really it's nothing."

It was obvious that Carrie was not going to listen to her. "Come on tell me…"

Zurie completely broke down. Sobbing uncontrollably she fell into Carrie's arms, unable to speak through the sobs.

"I just got news this morning…" She said, trying to stay calm enough to speak to Carrie, "…my father…Ivan…he is dead."

Carrie had been expecting something like this. She knew that Zurie was very mentally strong and it would take something completely devastating to reduce her to tears.

"I'm so sorry…" Zurie was still sobbing, "…how did he die?"

Zurie again tried to stop crying. It seemed to take her a bit longer this time, as though finally saying it had made it more real than ever. "Well…" She began, still sobbing slightly, "…he was not murdered like the few unlucky people that have been recently. He died the way he wanted to go, the way everybody wants to go… he went to sleep and didn't wake up…"

The way she had said he died the way he wanted to seemed to calm Zurie down a bit. She stopped crying in what appeared to be a very short amount of time. Carrie then remembered something that she had been told recently.

"Was your mother's name Catherine Beaumont?" This had not had the effect that Carrie had been expecting. She had assumed that her mother was dead, and that this may cause Zurie to cry again, yet she immediately turned very angry.

"No!" Snapped Zurie, so loudly that it made Carrie jump backwards a few paces. "My mother's name was not Catherine Beaumont. That was my step-mothers name…"

Carrie had to do some very quick thinking in order to calm Zurie down. "I'm sorry Zurie. I did not mean to upset you or anything…"

"Oh don't worry about it…" Zurie said trying to be as calm as possible. "…nobody has ever told you what that woman was like I am guessing?"

"No." Carrie admitted, glad that she had managed to calm Zurie down so quickly. "What was she like?"

"A complete and utter witch!" Zurie spat, obviously getting angry again at the very thought of her step mother. "She is the last person that you would ever want to have to call mother…"

Zurie seemed to be losing herself in her own thoughts of anger. They were silent for a few minutes. Carrie felt that it would be best to let Zurie calm down on her own, and that saying anything more may cause her to flare up in anger again.

She was about to start up a conversation about the Phantom to try and get off the subject of Zurie's step-mother, but then Carrie thought that Zurie may snap at her for being so obsessed with him.

Carrie had the strange feeling that Zurie knew something about the Phantom which she was not telling anyone else. As if being able to read her mind, Zurie decided that it was time to take her leave.

"I will see you later Carrie." She had turned and left before Carrie even had a chance to say goodbye to her.

-

Erik was very deep in thought. He had come face to face with one of the people he was desperate to meet and yet, even though he had met him, he had not been able to unmask him. This did not matter however, as he had still heard his voice, meaning that there was still a possibility, no matter how small, that he would be able to put a face to the voice and work out who it was.

He thought about some of the things that 'Wraith' had said to him, and how he had said it. _You think you are going to be able to beat me with cheap tricks like that!? _Erik was sure that he had heard this voice somewhere before, yet could not think where. Knowing Erik, this was just him getting his hopes up, after all how many people did he actually know with a voice that sounded anything like that?

He thought that if he was going to get any closer to solving this mystery, he was going to need a second opinion. Of course he had already told Christine about his encounter. He did not really have much choice. Jumping out of a window at his age was hardly going to leave him unscathed.

He thought about who he could ask, and then it came to him. "Daroga!"

Erik opened the desk drawer and pulled out paper and pen. Then he paused, he could not immediately think of anything to write, he knew what he was going to ask, but he could not just put: _Who do you think the two are?_

He sat there in silence for a few minutes, thinking. After carefully considering what he was going to write, he took the lid off of the pen and began to write the letter to his best friend.

_Daroga_

_Sorry I have not contacted you for a while. As you are no doubt aware things at the moment are rather frantic. You must have heard about the recent murders that have taken place, I know it is not my place to do so but I am looking into them myself. I made a trip to Frelques' manor just last week. Upon arriving I ran into somebody who I definitely was not expecting, one of 'The Two' who calls himself Wraith. _

_I was wondering what your opinion was on this subject? You must have some sort of vague idea as to who it might be. I would rather not discuss this in a letter though, could you please write back with a date when I can come and see you. It will be much easier to discuss this matter in person._

_While we are waiting for this date to arrive however, I will give you this to think about: Do you know of anybody who uses a double ended sword? You were after all a chief of police, so this should be your area of expertise._

_Until we meet I hope that you are keeping well._

_Your good friend._

_Erik._

Erik re-read what he had written to check that he had put down everything that he wanted to. He decided that it was alright and put it in an envelope but thought that it would be better to post it later.

Just then Christine walked into the room. "Are you alright Erik?"

Erik then noticed how good a mood he was in and yet he did not know himself quite why he was so happy. "I'm great." Christine looked over at the letter on the desk. "Just writing to Daroga…"

Christine sat down in a chair next to Erik. "Are you ever going to call him Nadir?" Erik never had called Daroga by his actual name before, "I mean it is his name isn't it?"

"Old habits die hard my love…" Erik was about to put the letter in the desk drawer, but then thought that he might forget about it if he did and so he left it on the desk where he would be sure to see it.

"What were you writing to him about…" Erik was about to answer when Christine continued, "…something to do with this 'Wraith' person I assume?"

Erik sighed. She had not taken the news that he had gone to the house badly. They had not even argued over it. Christine did not approve of him going there without telling her however.

"You should not have gone there in the first place in my opinion. You were looking for trouble…" Christine sounded like a mother who was being over protective of her child.

"With somebody trying to impersonate me I think trouble is finding me. What would be the point in me going to look for it?" Erik gave a small chuckle at his own joke, as did Christine though it was clear that she was not really very amused.

"I don't see why you think Daroga is going to be able to help you. He probably does not know any more about it than you do." Christine said, rather bluntly.

"You may be right…" Erik picked up the letter and put it in his pocket as if he was about to go and post it, "…maybe if I took another look around the house I may find the clues that I am looking for …"

He broke off. The look on Christine's face was one of both annoyance and of pleading. It was clear just from that look that she did not want him to go back there, almost as if she was frightened of something.

"Erik…" She said, very quietly, "… you were nearly killed last time… don't you think that it would be sensible not to go back?"

Erik knew that she was going to say this. "I was only nearly killed, not actually killed. Otherwise I would not be sitting here talking to you now would I?"

Christine again was not amused by this subtle joke. "The point is you were nearly killed… I have already had an experience where I thought you were going to die… please don't put me through that again." She leaned forward and took his hands in hers.

"Christine you know that I have to go back, I will not be able to sleep well at night knowing that these two maniacs are on the loose…"

Christine was about to say something to try and stop him from going, but Erik had already leaned forward and kissed her in order to stop her from doing so. Christine was not going to let him distract her like that though and so she pulled away.

"You have read those papers enough times to know what those two are capable of. What if you end up looking like that… that officer?" Erik thought about the very graphic descriptions of the police officer that the maid was shown.

"I am not an officer." Erik said quickly, and before Christine could stop him he had grabbed his cloak and headed out the front door. All Christine could do was pray that he returned home in one piece.

-

Erik was about half way to the manor when he stopped. Now that he thought logically, wasn't meeting Wraith probably worth more than any evidence he could have found in that house? Erik was thinking, he could go back to the house, even though it was very unlikely that there was going to be anything interesting there, or he could go somewhere where he was more likely to find clues.

Erik wondered where he could go to find clues other than the manor. He stood there thinking for at least five minutes before he thought of it. It was so obvious he was surprised he had not wanted to go there before he went to the manor.

"…The Populaire…" Erik wheeled around and started heading straight in the direction of the Opera House.

He would have to be extremely careful in order to get inside, and more importantly get where he wanted to go. If he ran into Carrie that would be extremely difficult to explain. He was quite likely to as well, after all he had blocked up all of the entrances to his lair and the passages on the off chance that somebody might find one of them.

After about a half an hour walk Erik found himself approaching the building. The two new doormen were standing on either side of the large oak front doors. Erik's first task would be to get past them.

Erik could not help thinking that this was rather like having to break into the manor. Then he thought logically. He would not have to sneak past them at all. He could simply enter the Populaire through the stables. The stable boys were always too busy to notice what was going on around them anyway.

Erik made it in easily. The more difficult task of making his way to the managers' office was now at hand. He would just have to move quickly and silently, making sure that there was nobody round the corners he was about to turn.

He was surprised at how few people were moving around the building. Erik managed to get to the door to the managers' office without being seen by a single person. The only thing that had seen him was Porsche, who, Erik was glad to see, was still keeping a sharp eye out for anything.

Erik pressed his ear against the door and from what he could hear there was nobody in there, but he could not be sure. He knocked on the door three times, and to his horror heard somebody approaching the door to open it.

As the door opened Erik quickly hid behind it so that he was not seen. "Who's there?"

This was where Erik's ventriloquism skills came in very useful. He was able to manipulate his voice so that it was able to sound as though it came from further down the hall. "Over here…"

The person turned out to be Firmin, who was walking a little way down the hall. Erik quickly slipped into the office. He did not shut the door in case Firmin heard it and turned round.

He moved over to the desk and quickly found what he was looking for. He stowed several letters signed by O.G in his inner pocket. Firmin chose that very moment to return to the room. He looked as though he was about to scream for help, but Erik was too quick in getting to him to silence him.

"I was never here, understood?" Firmin nodded, and Erik ran off as quickly as he could, thankful that he had his hood up the whole time.

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Authors Notes: hmmmm, perhaps if the review:hit ratio does not increase i will not upload the chapter as often... you should leave one just incase, and to let me know what you think of course... 

R


	12. Nine Lives

Thank you to everyone who left a review last time, and if you are one of those who did not... shame on you. I ahev decided that I will upload every other day now anyway though, but that does not mean that you should not review, seriously I want to know what you think of it! Enough ranting, enjoy chapter twelve...

**Mythical Nielsen: **It is amazing how you know so much about book one and yet have not left a single review for it...

**Marie: **I luv ya for being such a faithful reviewer Marie xxx

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Chapter 12- Nine Lives

It had been a very long time since Meg had last spoken. Byron was very worried about her, afraid that something might have happened to her which meant that she would not be able to speak even if she wanted to.

Byron had to try and look on the bright side of things. Michel was coming back for a visit today, so that was something to look forward too. Byron did not think that Meg seemed to be very pleased about this but he could not see why as the two of them had always been very close.

He checked the clock. Michel had said that he would be visiting at around two o'clock, and the clock on the wall showed that it was around five minutes until that time. Byron was quite looking forward to seeing his son again, and he was sure that Michel would be pleased to get away from the factory for a while.

The five minutes seemed to go by in no time, and almost as soon as the clock struck two there was a knock at the door. As expected when Byron opened the door he found his son standing on the doorstep.

"Welcome home son…" He said, allowing Michel to enter.

"Good to see you again father." Michel said politely to Byron.

Meg and Byron's house was not quite as big as Christine and Erik's and yet it still had all the comforts that their house did. Michel went through into the living room, which happened to be the biggest room in the entire house.

"Hello mother…" Michel said spotting his mother in one of the many chairs in the room. Michel had not been told that his mother had not been speaking for a long time.

Meg gave Michel a look of pure evil, yet did not say anything. It was obvious that she still thought her son was a killer, yet neither Byron nor Michel knew about this.

"Have you been keeping well?" Still Meg said nothing. She looked away from him so as not to meet his eyes.

"She has not been in the mood for talking recently." Byron informed Michel, trying to sound as though this was an off hand sort of statement.

"Oh really, why not?" Asked Michel, not sounding nearly as concerned as Byron thought he would.

"No idea, just not in the mood for speech I suppose." Byron was still trying to sound matter-of-fact as he said this, yet he did not seem to be achieving that effect very well.

"How long has she been in this mood for then?" It was clear the Michel was not going to let the subject drop.

"Umm, you know… about, a few…" Byron gulped before he said the next word, "…months."

Again Michel surprised him, he did not seem to be the least bit concerned about this. "Is that right?"

Byron felt like he was about to explode due to his sons calmness about the subject. "Are you not even a little bit worried about her?" Byron whispered, not wanting Meg to hear, even though she was hardly going to have a go at him if she did.

Michel raised his eyebrows at his father. "Should I be?"

Byron thought that he was going to hit his son if he said something like that again, so he tried to force himself to stay calm. "Well she is your mother…"

Michel did not react to this at all, he seemed to be in such an uncaring mood, almost as if he did not really want to be there.

"So…" Began Byron, thinking of a topic with which to change the subject, "…how have things been going at work."

"As boring as they always have." Spat Michel, not really wanting to get into the subject of his work. "So I do not really know why you even bothered to ask me. In fact, here is an idea… why not just keep out of my life?"

Byron was about to ask him what was wrong, but thought better of it. After all he and Meg hardly ever got the chance to see him, and he did not really want to ruin his visit. Byron could sense that the visit was not really going to be a pleasant one however.

-

Erik was looking through all of the letters that he had taken from the Opera Populaire not that long ago. He was amazed at how brilliantly whoever this person was had managed to copy his handwriting. In fact if Erik did not know better he would have actually thought that he had written them himself.

"What are you looking at?" It was Christine. Erik jumped. He had not heard her enter the room.

"Nothing… well, nothing important really." Christine gave him a look as if to say 'I don't believe you'.

"If it is nothing important then why not show me?" Erik could tell that he was not going to get away with this. He had managed to keep the letters from her until now.

Erik held out about three of the letters that he had taken from the managers' office. Christine took them, and then read them one after the other.

"You did not write these… did you?" Erik shook his head.

"No, but whoever did is doing a very good job of copying me." Christine agreed with Erik on this, if Erik had not told her it was not him she would have thought it was him immediately.

"Where did you get them? Erik knew that she was going to ask this and had no intention of lying to her whatsoever.

"I went back to the Opera house…" Erik had been expecting Christine to react badly to this, yet she surprised him.

"I thought so. Of course I knew you would sooner or later." Christine sighed. "You found them in the managers' office I suppose?"

Erik nodded. "I was sure that those two fools would keep them." Erik told Christine, who also thought that André and Firmin would do something like this.

"So…" Said Christine, handing back the three letters that Erik had given her, "…have they helped you work out who this person is?"

"I am already pretty sure that it is either Wraith or…" Erik then remembered that he did not know the name of the other one of the two, "… or whatever that other one of the two is called."

Christine privately agreed with Erik. It would be a perfect alibi for them to commit this murder and then make it seem like the Opera Ghost had returned at the same time. This would mean that people would think that it was Erik committing all of the murders when it was not.

"It appears that people are trying to copy you…" Christine said to Erik, getting this thought out of her mind.

"It looks like somebody is trying to copy my life…" Erik agreed, becoming even more determined to find out who it was that was doing this.

Christine left the room. She could tell that Erik wanted to be left alone so that he could concentrate more. Erik however decided that it would be best to take his mind off things by doing some more composing.

-

Carrie had just finished eating her dinner. Her phantom obsession had not gone away at all. In fact she was now asking anyone and everyone for any more information about the Opera Ghost.

One thing had confused her though. She had gone back to the managers' office one day to swap letters again, only to find that all of them had gone. Carrie did not think that either of the managers would actually get rid of the letters. She thought that she would just have to wait a while until they had a few more until she returned to get another one.

Carrie was about halfway back to her room when she noticed someone who she was at a loss to understand why they were at the Populaire. "Porsche?"

She had only just seen the yellow eyes before they faded into the shadowy corner that Porsche was standing in. Upon approaching the corner Carrie found out that she was right, it was indeed Porsche the cat that she had seen.

"What are you doing here?" She asked the cat, scooping her up into her arms. "You shouldn't be away from the house…"

Carrie took the cat all the way to her room. She would not be able to stay with her however, as she had rehearsals to be getting to shortly. She put Porsche down on the bed, and she curled up as if to go to sleep. Carrie checked the clock on her mantel piece, she did not have very long until the evening rehearsals began, and she did not want to be late.

"You are just going to have to wait here until I return…" Carrie told the cat and with that she turned round and left.

Porsche got up off of the bed at once. She did not want to let Erik down, and so went over to the door, having a little trouble opening it since Carrie had shut it completely, and then left.

She did not think that there was anything suspicious going on at the moment. After all, she had been patrolling the corridors looking for anything out of the ordinary for a few hours now and so the chances of something happening were extremely remote in her opinion.

Porsche felt a bit hungry and so she went off to the kitchens to steal the usual food that they prepared in the evenings. She had just got to the door that led into the kitchens when a familiar voice hit her ears. She could not make out what it was saying, and so followed it to see where it was coming from.

The cat must have searched through the opera house for a good fifteen minutes before discovering the location of the voice. It appeared to be coming from the roof. Luckily the door to the roof was unlocked as always.

She trotted up the stairs. The door leading out onto the roof was ajar, meaning that she could slip through it without alerting whoever was there. It was extremely cold and windy out on the roof, the wind was making it almost impossible to hear what was being said.

Porsche's vision however was fine. She saw in the middle of the roof the same familiar figure that she had seen a while ago, it was Wraith, talking to somebody who the cat had never seen before in her life.

She needed to move closer in order to hear what was being said between the two figures. It was very difficult as it was not yet dark enough for Porsche to blend into the shadows. She hid behind the statues as she made her way closer to the two.

The somebody that the cat had never seen before turned out to be a woman, a very beautiful woman. She had long blonde hair which came right down to her waist, and a pale complexion that gave her a somewhat cold look. The woman was wearing a long white coat which came right down to her ankles, and a white mask which covered her eyes only, the eyes themselves were a stunning blue. The woman's eyes sparkled as she talked to Wraith.

"I still do not understand why you wanted to meet me here of all places Wraith…" She said, her voice was very posh, yet cold.

Wraith took a deep breath in, shivering in the cold. "There are a few things which I would like to discuss."

"Discuss away…" Began the woman in the white coat, "…I am listening."

"I am sure you have heard about my encounter with this man of mystery?" Wraith asked the woman.

"Of course I have…" The woman replied, sounding somewhat bored by the topic, "…and I am sure that you are now going to ask me if I have any idea who he is, correct?"

"Yes." Replied Wraith, the woman was completely silent. "So? Who do you think it is?"

The woman appeared to be thinking. "No idea, well, I would need to look at the scenario a bit more carefully before I gave you a good idea." She began to pace back and forth across the roof. "He was obviously not with the police force…"

"Obviously…" Cut in Wraith, "…he was much too professional to be with the Police…"

The woman nodded. "I agree. How many officers know how to duel properly? Or carry swords with them for that matter… Did you not even get a glimpse of his face?"

Wraith shook his head. "Didn't get the chance… it has been a long time since I have had a fight as challenging as that one…"

"Admirable of you to admit that." The woman chuckled to herself. "I would never have thought it possible for you to admit that there might be someone better than you out there…"

"Did I say I thought he was better? No, I did not. I said I thought he was a decent challenge." Wraith did not want this to turn into an argument, so he changed the subject. "Anyway, there is something else that I wanted to discuss…"

"Which is?" She sounded well and truly bored of the conversation now, though that could be largely due to her posh accent rather than the conversation itself.

"This job I have to do tomorrow…" Wraith sounded very annoyed about something. "…I never thought that I would be asked to do something so cheap!"

"If you are to earn respect then you must first complete the tasks which you are given." Wraith thought that this sounded like a very wise statement to remember.

"I suppose you are right, but I am used to bigger tasks than this." The woman could see that Wraith was going to be very immature about this.

"How much are you being paid?" She sounded as though she did not really want to know, but felt it polite to ask anyway.

"Two thousand francs!" He shouted back, making it quite unnecessary for Porsche to strain her ears to listen. "The last job that I did I got a fifty percent cut of the takings, and that was twenty thousand in itself!"

"Calm down, you have done cheaper haven't you?" This did not seem to have the calming effect that she had intended it to have.

"Yes I have, and I was hoping that my days of being underpaid were long gone, but I was obviously wrong!" He was in such a towering rage now that Porsche was surprised that somebody in the Opera House had not heard him. "I'm sorry, I should just get on with it, I mean it's not like my skills are being underestimated…"

The woman paced very nervously. "Don't take this the wrong way, but ever since the Frelques job I think somebody is being favoured more than you now…"

Wraith's eyes flashed. "Not him!?"

"I am afraid so… don't get me wrong, I still think you are the best." She gave him a cheeky smile.

Porsche thought that she had heard quite enough of the conversation. She wanted to leave before she overstayed her welcome. The woman however seemed to spot her heading over to the door.

"Bloody cats!" She pulled out a gun and made to shoot Porsche, yet Wraith stopped her before she had a chance to fire a shot. "What the hell did you do that for!?"

Wraith rolled his eyes beneath his mask. "Did you not know that it is unlucky to kill a black cat?"

The woman gave out a small chuckle. "Since when were you a superstitious man Wraith?"

"I'm not, but I think that people might be a little bit alarmed by the shot, don't you?"

The woman seemed to see sense in this now and yet still continued to argue. "Would that really matter, we would be able to escape and the cat would be fine anyway… after all, cats do have nine lives don't they?"

"And since when did you start believing in the supernatural?" Wraith chuckled at his own witty comeback.

They both looked round to see if the cat was still there. It was not, it had obviously run off at the sight of the gun. "I hate cats! I cannot stand the bloody things, don't know how anyone can…"

"Haha, you are not afraid of them are you?" The woman looked as though she was about to give Wraith a very hard slap across the face.

She managed to restrain herself however, as she then went on to say. "You think I would be afraid of something like that? The things I have seen, the things I have been face to face with, they put a new meaning to the word fear." She seemed to be remembering something horrible. Wraith seemed to know what she was thinking.

"That was a long time ago… you should just try and forget…" The woman looked as though she was about to start crying and yet stopped herself.

"If you had been through it you would know just how difficult it is to forget… anyway, I am going to get some sleep, you should too. After all you are working tomorrow."

"Yes, because this job is going to be so taxing." Wraith said sarcastically.

"You should always give a job your full attention. I will see you when I see you, goodnight Wraith…" She left, closely followed by Wraith.

Porsche had hidden herself so that she could listen to the rest of the conversation. She waited a few minutes to make sure that the two of them were well and truly gone before heading back home to her owner, Erik. She needed to somehow tell him that there were more than two of them. This would surely be the sort of information that he needed.

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Authors Notes: As usual I hope you enjoyed it, and if you did then you will be pleased to know that in four days there is going to be a double update (two chapters in one go). The next update though is on friday...wait a tick...that means that the double update is on Christmas Eve! That can be my present to everyone as I do now know all of you personally, lol.

R


	13. An Unaffordable Mistake

Anon Review Replies:

**Mythical nielsen: **All charaters have got names, you will find out what they are later. Fair enough about not reviewing the first book, but even if it is the same as everyone else's it would still be nice for you to leave one for it to let us know what you thought, even if it is a just a 'Very good, i enjoyed it very much'. Anyways, thanks for the review.

**Marie: **The title does refer to the cat yet it also has a hidden meaning which is quite difficult to spot. Thank you very much for the review, my numero uno faithful reviewer.

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Chapter 13- An Unaffordable Mistake

Byron was in the living room, thinking. The visit from Michel had not gone at all how he had wanted it to. Meg seemed to now be more convinced than ever that her son was one of 'The Two', yet still Byron did not know about this.

It was Michel's attitude towards Meg that really concerned Byron the most. Michel had never used to be like that in the past, so why he should suddenly become resentful was a mystery to Byron.

Meg of course was sure that she knew what the problem was. She was sure that the reason would be something along the lines of 'The latest kill that I had to do did not go completely according to plan'. Christine and Erik, who knew that Meg thought her son was a killer, could not work out why she was being so silent about things. Erik had once had the urge to go to the police and tell them himself, this idea was ruined however when Christine reminded him that he was probably one of the most wanted people in Paris at the moment.

Byron decided that he needed to go on a walk to clear his mind and help him think better. He got up out of the chair he was sitting in and made his way to the front door. He was sure that Meg would probably not be the least bit interested that her husband was about to leave the house for a short while, but he thought that it would be a good idea to tell her anyway, just in case she found her voice by the time he got back.

"I'm just going for a walk…" Byron shouted so that she could hear him. Meg was in their bedroom trying to get some rest as she did not feel very well.

As expected there was no answer and so Byron opened the front door and left. He could not decide where he was going to go. He was getting a little paranoid about the murders and seemed to think that he may be next…

-

A woman was standing in a hotel room in front of a mirror. She was doing her makeup so that she could look her best when a certain visitor arrived to see her. She studied her reflection and seemed to be happy with it, she did not think that she looked quite as good as she could do, yet she was not about to go and see the king of France.

The woman had long black flowing hair, brown eyes and a look about her that gave the impression that she was a very sweet person.

She looked over at the clock. The person who she was expecting to see was not meant to arrive for another half an hour. Perhaps she was being a little too excited about everything. She pushed this thought out of her mind and went back over to the large mirror on the dresser to yet again check to see if she looked alright.

She crossed over to the window and looked out of it. She had a nice view of a park that was not too far from the hotel itself. Children were running around playing, dogs were barking and the sun was shining down on what seemed to be the perfect scene of happiness. _Nothing is going to spoil today. _She thought to herself, closing the curtains a little bit to admire the change of lighting in the room.

The woman was in a very good mood, which she was sure the weather was doing its best to reflect. She paced around the room for the rest of the time that she had to wait for her visitor.

Then there was a knock on the door. It was precisely as she had expected, two fast knocks followed by three slow ones. This meant that there could only be one person on the other side of the door…

She opened it, and as expected saw the man that she had been waiting for. The man did not say anything, just walked in, closed the door behind him and embraced the woman with a very fiery kiss.

"At last I am with you again Anastasia…" The man whispered in a very raspy voice when they had parted, "…nobody knows you are here, do they?"

"No, nobody…" She leant forwards quickly to kiss him again, completely unable to control herself. He was a very handsome man, with blonde hair which was in a neat parting, sparkling green eyes and a very muscular build.

He pulled away again. "What about your husband?" He asked, obviously he was quite a paranoid sort of person.

"I said nobody didn't I?" Anastasia took off the man's jacket and threw it into the corner of the room, "…and besides, you really think that man gives a damn about me, or what I get up to for that matter."

Anastasia was talking so quickly that it made it quite obvious she wanted to do a bit more than just standing around talking all day. The man went over to the window and closed the curtains. Now there was only a little bit of light filtering in from the top and the bottom of the window.

While he did this Anastasia went over to the door and made sure that it was locked, just to make sure that they would not be disturbed…

-

The hotel receptionist was currently going over some pieces of paper. He went down the list of names which were the people who were currently staying in the hotel. It was a large building, meaning that the list was a very long one indeed.

The receptionist sighed as he saw that he had not even gone over half of the names of the guests yet. A man then walked in through the front doors, a hood pulled up over his head so that his face could not be seen.

The man walked up to the receptionist, who was still looking down at all the pieces of paper, and had not noticed the man enter the building.

The man cleared his throat, causing the receptionist to look up. "Can I help you?"

"Yes…" Replied a sinister voice, "…I would like to know which room Mrs Levian is staying in please…"

The receptionist smiled. "I am afraid that I am not permitted to do such a thing, unless of course we have been told to expect someone…" He knelt down behind the desk, opened a drawer and started to put his papers away, "…and the person who she was told to expect has already arrived, so I am sorry sir but I am going to have to ask…"

He got back up to his feet. He was now peering down that barrel of a gun. "I'll ask again. Which room is Mrs Levian staying in?"

The receptionist gulped. "One two seven…" He replied in a whisper, cursing his rotten luck in his mind that he was the only person on duty at the moment, "…but like I said, there is already somebody with her."

"As expected…" Replied Wraith, "…I shall have to wait a little while then, do you have any idea how long this person is going to be?" The receptionist shook his head, Wraith decided to believe him. "Right, I will be waiting in the lobby then, isn't it so convenient that I will be able to see you from there?"

The receptionist clearly thought that this was very inconvenient. The thing that he wanted to do the most at the moment was to run and get help. Wraith stood there for a moment, thinking. He had the feeling he had forgotten to say something.

"I would like to see the Hotel Register please, just so that I know you are not lying…"

The receptionist got out the papers that not so long ago he had put away and showed them to Wraith, proving that he had told the truth.

"Good…" Began Wraith, and then remembered something else that he had to say, "…if you go anywhere or try to escape then I will kill you, and if you manage to escape then I will hunt you down and then kill you, understood?"

The receptionist nodded, not daring to disobey this madman. Wraith then went over and sat in the lobby, making sure that the seat he was sitting in was facing the receptionist so that he could be sure he was not going to go anywhere.

If Wraith had a choice he would not be here right now. What he had to do was so trivial and easy he did not know why he was chosen for the job. He had to sit there for a least an hour before anyone left the hotel, and even when he asked the receptionist if this was Mrs Levian's visitor it turned out not to be. He waited and waited, until at last a man with blonde hair walked out. The receptionist gave Wraith a small nod.

Wraith got up, glad that his wait was finally over. He gave the receptionist a look as much to say 'If you even think about going to get help you are dead'. He then made his way to room number one hundred and twenty seven. He was very impressed by the décor of the hotel, the lobby was one thing but the rest seemed to be even more highly decorated than ever.

It took him at least ten minutes before he at last found the room which he was looking for. On the door were the gold numbers one, two and seven. He paused to think about how he was going to go about doing this job. He had been so against doing it that he had not actually thought about how he was going to do it when the time came.

He knew he was not going to use his gun. He was going to use a blade to kill her. After all, it could not be too much trouble just to take out one little girl. He thought it would be best to just hurry up and get the job over with. He would not put it past the receptionist to be going to get the police, even though he had sworn to kill him if he did.

Wraith then reached out and knocked on the door three times. He heard a female voice call out in response to this.

"Who is it?" Wraith had hoped that she was just going to open the door. He had not planned a speech if something like this were to happen.

He waited to see if she was going to come and open the door. Getting tired of waiting, Wraith knocked again. This time there was no answer. Obviously the woman thought somebody was just playing a very annoying joke on her.

Again Wraith knocked, and again no answer. He thought if he just continued to knock on the door over and over again the woman would get annoyed and come to answer it.

He began to knock once every three seconds, it took about two minutes before she seemed to snap and get annoyed at last. The door opened, yet Wraith was not quite ready. He had only half taken out his double ended blade before the door was opened.

Anastasia screamed and slammed the door as fast as she could. She ran into the middle of her room in a complete panic. She could tell that this man meant to kill her, and she was not going to let that happen.

"Come on Mrs Levian…" Wraith called menacingly through the door, Anastasia stayed stock still, "…there is no need to worry. I am not going to hurt you…"

_No…_Thought Anastasia to herself, nearly laughing at this man's nerve _You are going to kill me aren't you?_

Wraith began to get very annoyed with the situation and so he began to try and kick the door down. It was lucky for Anastasia that the door was so sturdy. It gave her time to try and reinforce it with anything and everything she could find within the large hotel room.

Wraith was having a harder time than he would usually have with a job as simple as this one. He kicked and kicked at the door to try and bring it down. _All this trouble just to take out one measly little girl…_

Anastasia was busy trying to look for an escape route out of the room. She was now very annoyed that she was on the second floor. She could have easily escaped through the window if she was on the ground floor. She decided to go to her last resort. All she could do now was wait.

Wraith decided to start hacking away at the door with his sword, this was still a slow process even if it was a bit faster that kicking it down. At last the door was knocked down. Wraith burst into the room, raised his sword, but then felt a terrible pain in his left shoulder.

Looking at Anastasia he saw that she was pointing a gun in his direction. He knocked it out of her hands before she had chance to fire another shot. She ran past him to try and escape through the now destroyed door, but he had grabbed her ankles before she had the chance.

Anastasia kicked him in the face to make him let go. The shot was causing Wraith so much pain that he could not hold on to her. He let go and then got up to get out of there as quickly as he possibly could.

Before he could even get to the door however he heard footsteps approaching. He then did something extremely clever. He opened one of the doors on the oak wardrobe yet did not get in to hide. Instead he hid behind the open door, making it look as though he had just hidden inside it.

Wraith could hear the footsteps enter the room. As he had planned they went straight in the direction of the wardrobe. He counted to three in his mind before making his move. He slammed the door into the persons head. It turned out that it was a police officer. The receptionist had obviously gone to get help even though he was threatened with death if he did so.

There was another officer in the room as well, he drew his pistol and made to shoot Wraith, but he had already knocked it out of his hands and had grabbed the officer round the neck.

"Please don't kill…" He pleaded, but too late, Wraith had already snapped the man's neck.

He ran out of the room and made for the lobby. He had to be extremely cautious just in case there were any more police officers waiting for him in there. It appeared however that they thought they could take him with just two of them.

Wraith ran out of the hotel as quickly as he could. He needed to get to a place where he could be sure there was nobody else around. Eventually he ended up concealed in a clump of trees. He looked at his shoulder to check the damage that had been done. It was not too bad, even though it was extremely painful.

Wraith was furious with himself. He had been going on about how easy this job was going to be, and when at last it came to actually doing the job he had failed. He must have done jobs that were ten times harder than this one, and not once had he failed whilst doing them.

One thing that he was most annoyed about was the fact that he was never going to hear the end of this, not until his dying day. There was no point complaining about it now though, staying in the same place for too long would inevitably mean that he would be seen.

-

Byron returned home. Even though he had been out for hours on end he still was not able to work out a logical reason for why Meg, his wife, was in such a peculiar mood.

_I must be stupid, she has been like this for a good few months and I still haven't been able to work out what is wrong with her… if she would just talk… _Byron was beginning to get very upset by the situation. Maybe the reason was that Meg just simply did not love him anymore, and therefore never wanted to speak to him again for the rest of her life…

_No that can not be right, Meg would not be so childish about the whole thing… _Byron had thought of too many different reasons for Meg's behaviour, this happened to be one of the first he came up with, and it also happened to be the one that he wanted to dismiss from his mind the fastest.

He thought that trying to talk with her would be the best thing to do. He went into the living room and found Meg sitting silently in her usual seat.

"Meg?" Byron said, quietly. Meg looked up at him but did not say a word. "Meg… please tell me what is wrong…"

_No need, if I did you would just take his side anyway, so what would be the point in doing that?_ Meg thought to herself, still with no intentions of saying anything.

Byron could see that he was yet again not going to get anywhere with her. He did not know why he even bothered to ask. He would just have to wait until Meg found her voice again, no matter how long it took. Byron went to the bedroom to get some sleep. It was not really very late yet, but he was tired from the long walk that he had just had.

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Authors Notes: I have had a request from my beta for a book three...what are your views on this? One chapter has already been written (5000 words, woo hoo) and there is an estimate of 20 chaps. If you like the idea of having a third book then please do say in your review. More details will be in the final authors notes. Until Christmas Eve, i bid you adieu.

R


	14. Draconosis

Double update just as promised falalalalalalalala. **WARNING: **This chapter on its own goes completely off-rails, so if you read this one then i strongly suggest that you read the next one as well, that is the purpose of this double update. Anyways, enough of that, i am sure you were intending to read both of the chapters anyway, but this was just a precaution. Enjoy chapter 14...

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Chapter 14- Draconosis

Erik was sat at his desk looking at the many letters that had been forged in his handwriting. There was no possible way to tell who it was who had written them. It was driving him insane, he had to somehow work out who it was who was trying to mimic his life.

"Erik!" Christine called from the bedroom, "…could you feed the cats quickly please?"

Erik did not answer, he just got up and went though into the kitchen. _I will find out who you are, you cannot stay hidden from me forever…_

-

Wraith walked through two large stone doors. He could just hear everybody's voices now 'You were beaten by a woman? You, Wraith, beaten by a woman! Ha, well I never thought I would live to see the day…' Wraith cringed at the very thought of it.

He made his way down the dark stone passageways. There were only a few torches scattered here and there about the place, making it quite difficult to see. He wondered if he was going to be punished for his mistake…his unforgivable mistake. After all, nobody else had failed to complete a task, meaning that he, Wraith, would be the first one in history to do so.

What made this even more unbearable was that he was the one that had more experience than anyone else.

_Maybe she was right…maybe you do need to be focused on the job no matter how small it may be… _Wraith cursed under his breath, making his way down the labyrinthine passages.

Perhaps he was taking the whole thing the wrong way, perhaps everybody would feel sorry for him. "Yeah right…" Wraith muttered to himself, his voice echoing down the stone hallway.

A voice then popped into his head. _If you are to earn respect, first you must complete the tasks you are given…_ "You got that right, and if you don't complete them you lose respect…" Wraith could not believe that he was talking to himself, but he was in such a state of shock at failing he did not much care.

It was the day after the attempted assassination of Anastasia Levian, and Wraith was now sure that the story would be on the front page of the newspapers. He could picture a headline reading something along the lines of 'One of 'The Two' fails to kill'. _We all make mistakes I guess…_

Wraith finally found himself standing outside the doors which lead into the main chamber. He did not really want to go through them, but he knew that he did not really have much choice anyway. It was time for him to swallow his pride. He took a deep breath, exhaled and then pushed open the heavy stone doors and walked through them.

The main chamber was only a little bit lighter than the dark passageways that he had just been walking down. He looked around, there were more people there than there usually were, and the person who he was looking for was nowhere to be seen.

It took Wraith quite a while to find who he wanted. During this time he was sure that people were giving him very strange looks, though it was difficult to tell as you could only see their eyes through their masks. He spotted who he was looking for sitting at a table with a drink in his right hand. Wraith took another deep breath and walked up to him.

The man in red looked up. "Nice of you to return…" There was something in his voice which Wraith definitely did not like the sound of. It was still the high pitched cold voice that he always used, yet it had a small note of sarcasm in it.

"Nice to be back!" Wraith spat, his voice echoing in the chamber. He was sure that everybody close to the two of them were eavesdropping.

"So…" The red figure said behind his mask, "…were you bored out of your brains yesterday, having nothing interesting to do?"

Wraith could tell that he definitely knew about his mistake. "Lots of fun thanks…"

People were actually starting to look straight at the two of them now. It was evident that they did not much care if he knew that they were listening to them. Wraith waited with baited breath for his colleague to say something, yet if he did not say something soon he was sure that he would be waiting for a long time.

"Actually…" Wraith began, fidgeting slightly with his hood, "…there was a sort of problem…well, a mistake. You may have heard something about it."

Red gave a small chuckle. "I think everybody in France has heard something about it!"

Wraith then noticed a newspaper on the table next to Red's drink. Wraith reached out a hand to pick it up, but Red stopped him before he had chance to. Wraith looked across the table at him questioningly.

"Please…" He began, picking up the paper, "…allow me to read it for you." All Wraith could do was sit back and listen to his colleague read what he was hoping never to hear in his life. " 'It seems that this murder mystery is hardly worth the effort. Yesterday one of 'The Two' failed to kill a female victim by the name of Anastasia Levian. Anastasia managed to defend herself with a pistol, police are still asking why she had a pistol in her possession, but all they are getting out of her so far is **Shouldn't you be happy that I had it? Otherwise I would have died!**"

Wraith could not believe what he was hearing. They had managed to get this story in the papers overnight. He could here people who were listening in to their conversation starting to mutter amongst themselves. Red continued to read the newspaper article to him.

" 'Perhaps there is no need to fear these two madmen. If a woman with no combat experience can take one of them then who can't? There may still be need to keep our guard up for the one dressed in red, but the one dressed in black now seems to be less threat to us than a cat which has been shot in the foot. For an interview with Anastasia Levian turn to page five."

Wraith sat there trying to take it all in. If people were going to find out about his mistake he would rather they heard it from his mouth rather than a paper. He waited for Red to continue, but he seemed to have said all that he wanted to.

"…what of it?" Wraith knew from the moment he said these words that a joke was going to be made out of them at once.

"What of it!?" Red thought that his ribs were going to crack from compressing his laughter so much. "Do you know how the boss is going to react when he sees you?"

The muttering started up again. Wraith did not know what to do, he had just been told that he was going to be seen by the boss, and that only happened if one of two things happened: If you did something to really impress him or if you did something to really annoy him. Wraith was sure that he had not impressed him with his 'mistake', though the word mistake was now becoming an understatement.

"Listen… I made a mistake alright? Which I am sure could happen to anyone…" Wraith could tell that a joke was probably going to be made out of this as well, but someone then came along who amazingly enough took his side.

"That's right…" The woman in the white coat had come to join in the conversation, "…you should all look back to when you first joined this organisation and remember just how much your superiors babied you!" People started shifting uneasily where they stood.

"Yes, but he has not 'just joined this organisation', in fact he has been here longer than most of us!" Red seemed to be winning this argument by far, all of the onlookers seemed to agree with him. "Sure, I was 'babied' as you call it when I first joined, but now I am going alone and what is my mistake count?" Everybody including Wraith was sure they knew what number they were about to be told. "Zero…" He put the tip of his index finger and his thumb together to make a zero sign.

The woman in the white coat looked as though she was about to run round the table and slap that masked face of his, which she did, but his reflexes were way too quick. He had grabbed her hand before it had come into contact with his face.

"You shouldn't be so full of yourself. It will eventually be your undoing." Red blinked, looking straight into the woman's piercing blue eyes.

"It is the confidence that I have which keeps me alive, if you are not sure of yourself in even the smallest way then…" He drew a finger across his throat, "…that would be game over for you wouldn't it?"

He released her hand, and she walked back round the table to stand behind Wraith. "Show's over!" She shouted at all of the people who had been watching this little argument, "Don't you have work to be getting on with." It sounded almost comical hearing her get angry in her posh accent.

Everybody went away. It was true that all of them had some sort of work to be getting on with. Wraith then turned to the man in the red cape, looking at him questioningly. Red knew what he was going to ask before he even asked it.

"When does the boss want to see me?" He sounded very fearful as he asked this question. The boss was obviously a person who you did not want to get on the wrong side of.

"He doesn't… that was just a scare tactic…" Wraith looked ready to kill, which he probably would have if the woman had not been amongst them.

"Scare tactic…" He muttered under his breath, having the urge to go and punch Red in the face, "…the things that came out of your mouth are enough to fill an entire sewer Red!"

"Crimson…" Red replied, looking straight at Wraith. Wraith himself wanted to look away. The red eyes were very unnerving to look into.

"Whatever…" Wraith got up and strode over to the far side of the large stone chamber, leaving both Red and the woman alone.

"Well, don't you have work to be getting on with yourself?" She asked him, still very annoyed at the way he had humiliated Wraith.

"No, otherwise I would not be having a drink." The woman thought that it must be very difficult to have a drink when you have a mask covering your entire face. The mystery of how he drank however was solved, every time he went to take a drink he would lift up his mask from the bottom slightly, revealing a small part of his face.

"It is a stupid rule that we have to wear these bloody things even when we are here…" Red said, scratching his face beneath his mask.

"You know the boss. He does not like to take chances. For all we know there could be a spy among us even now…" She sounded quite nervous beneath her posh accent.

"Hence why we use codenames even here." Red got up and went over to a door which led out of the main chamber. "I need to ask a favour of you…"

The woman thought that this was an extremely cheeky thing to say after what he had just done. "Which is?"

"I need you to write another letter." He pulled a piece of paper out of his inside cloak pocket and gave it to her, "You can do the handwriting better than anyone else."

"Yes, that is why I have been doing these damn things from the start…" She looked down at the paper to see what was written on it and sighed, "…how long are we going to have to keep up this charade for?"

"As long as it takes…" Red opened the door that they were standing next to and began to walk through it, "…what are you going to do now?"

"I have some very important work to be getting on with." She gave him a very meaningful look when she said the word 'important'.

"I see… that's very unlike you…" Anybody else hearing these words would have wondered why the woman did not get angry, but she simply chuckled and walked off.

She made her way to a very secluded part of the entire place, which took her a surprisingly short amount of time considering the size of the complex. She was standing in front of yet more stone doors, they were identical to all of the others that were around the place.

She opened the door. )n the other side was what appeared to be some sort of waiting room. "Sorry for the delay…"

In one of the many chairs in this room sat a young girl who looked as though she was in her late teens, looking quite at home in this sort of place. "What was the problem?"

"Just a self-obsessed bastard who needs a hard slap across the face…other than that, nothing." The girl got up and walked over to the woman.

"So…" She began, finally starting to realise the sort of place that she was in, "…what exactly is this place."

The woman led her down a passage, "…base of operations, headquarters. Call it what you like… some people even refer to it as 'home'."

"Home?" The girl asked curiously.

"Yes home, many of our members have no place to go…" Her voice sounded quite sad as she told the girl this.

"Members?" The girl was starting to feel more and more stupid due to her lack of knowledge.

"Members of Draconosis. That is our name." The girl seemed to understand, "You have been chosen because you show potential, like the rest our members you were handpicked, not randomly chosen from some archive…"

"Hand picked? You mean I have been being followed!?" She sounded a little angry at the thought of her privacy being invaded.

"No…" Began the woman, "…it means that you happened to be near one of our members when you demonstrated Draconosis quality."

The girl nodded to show that she understood. "When did I show that quality."

_You are a very inquisitive person aren't you? _Thought the woman to herself. "When you managed to 'Accidentally' kill somebody who was attacking you… yes, it was me who saw that, and from quite a distance as well…"

The girl seemed to know what the woman was talking about. "Where were you?"

"That does not matter…" The woman replied very quickly, "…what matters at the moment is that you know who we are and what we do. We are Draconosis, as you know, and we are a league of assassins as I am sure you have guessed."

"But if you are so secret…"

"If **we** are so secret…" The woman corrected her.

"Right… if we are so secret then how do we know if somebody wants someone killed?" To the girls great surprise the woman actually laughed.

"You are too inquisitive… but I suppose I can tell you. We do not assassinate for other people, we assassinate for ourselves. Every assassination that takes place is guaranteed to make us a profit some way or another…" The girl looked completely lost at this statement, "…think about it, the murder of Samuel Frelques. He had signed a deal for an estate in London. The estate was left in his will to one of our members. Of course nobody knows that…"

Everything seemed to be starting to make a lot of sense now. "But surely that takes a lot of time to set up?"

"Indeed it does, hence why we have so many members… it ensures that there is always a job available."

The girl was becoming more and more interested by the second. "So…I am a member?"

"Only if you want to be, we don't force membership on you, if you don't accept we just make sure you forget everything you have seen…" The woman then noticed the look of terror on the girls face, "…I don't mean death! Anyway, want a tour?"

The woman was being so polite to the girl it made it hard to believe that she was a killer. "Yes please."

She was shown round the massive facility, asking questions whenever she did not understand something that she was told. They passed a door which the woman did not explain what was behind.

"Hey, wait!" Called the girl. "You haven't showed me what this room is!"

The girl studied the door. In very untidy writing were two letters engraved into the stone. LL.

"You do not need to know about that door… nor do you really want to." There was a quiver in her voice as she said this.

The girl did not decide to press the matter. Eventually they came to a room full of weaponry. This was the kind of room that she loved the most.

"I am sure I don't really need to tell you, but this is the armoury." She gestured to the many weapons around her. In one corner of the room was a fireplace with a fire burning in it. "And now comes the question, do you want to join?"

"Yes." The girl replied, the woman was startled by her certainty.

"Good." She walked over to the fireplace and pulled out a poker. "You have until this touches you arm to change your mind."

On the end of the poker was the letter D. She had no intention of changing her mind. "I don't have to make any oaths of anything?"

"No, if you decide to betray us then that is your funeral…" She hovered the poker over a part of her arm. It was clear that her mind was set, so the woman pressed the poker as hard as she could into her arm.

To her surprise she did not scream, though it was clear that she was in quite a lot of pain. She pulled the poker away, now on her arm was a D, standing for Draconosis.

"Good, now it is up to you what your codename is…oh, and you must always wear a mask in headquarters, and talk to people using their codenames…"

"What is your codename?"

-

Wraith was still not over the humiliation. It had been hours since the argument had taken place, yet people were still giving him the looks that they had done then.

The doors to the chamber opened and in walked the woman in the white coat and a young girl. Wraith knew that this could only mean one thing. He saw Red walk up to the two of them.

"So, this is the new recruit?"

"Member." Replied the woman, "Fiora this is Red…"

"Crimson." Red corrected her, annoyed that he was not being called by his proper name.

"Is he the boss then?" She asked, reaching out a hand to shake Red's. The woman gave a small laugh at this.

"He wishes…" They all walked over to where Wraith was. "And this is Wraith…who I am sure you have heard about."

"Aren't you the one who couldn't kill Anastasia?" She asked, shaking his hand. Wraith nodded his head. "So, who is the leader or boss around here?"

"It would be wise for you to keep those sorts of questions to yourself, Fiora…" Replied Crimson in his high cold voice. "Oh, do you have the letter?" He asked the woman.

"Here." She held out the letter which Red had asked her to write. He read it. The handwriting was exactly like he wanted it to be.

"Wait around here, I need to go and check something…" Red walked off to the back of the massive chamber, where there were some stairs leading up to a very large stone door.

They all waited for his return, two of them knew what was through that door, where as Fiora was completely oblivious to what was going on. In a few minutes he returned.

"Right, your first job…" Fiora was taken aback that she was going to be doing a job so soon, "… you are to clear up the mess that Wraith left behind, just take out Anastasia Levian, and then we will be able to see if you are ready for more challenging jobs… you'd better accompany her." He finished, turning to the woman.

"Ok, let's go and get you kitted up…" She led Fiora back to the armoury, where she left her to pick a weapon of her choice.

It took her a short amount of time to find what she was looking for. She returned to the woman holding two sickles, one in each hand. The only thing that was left for her to do was to choose a mask. This also took a very short amount of time, she returned with a fiery red mask to match her name, Fiora.

"Right, are you ready?" The woman asked Fiora.

"Yes." The two of them left, heading for the exit of the whole facility.

* * *

Authors Notes: I will let you off if you choose not to review this chapter, but i would still like you to. Anyway, now you have finished it you can get on with the next chapter, which i PROMISE gets back on-rails. Happy reading...

R


	15. Crimson Nightshade

Ok...did you survive the last chapter? Well if you are reading this then you obviously did, lol. I wont ramble on, enjoy chapter 15...

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Chapter 15- Crimson Nightshade

"You sent the girl to clear up my mess?" Wraith was positively fuming. "How much longer are you going to mock me, Red?"

"Crimson…" He was only really half paying attention to Wraith. He could not really be bothered to have another argument with him and it just seemed like too much effort at the moment. He had read through the letter that had been written for him a few times, and then the woman's voice came into his mind.

_How long are we going to have to keep up this charade for? _Red could not help but think that the charade was starting to become a bit pointless. Maybe this would be the last letter that they had to write in the name of the 'Opera Ghost'.

"Red is much easier to say." Red jumped, he had been so lost in his own thoughts that he had forgotten he was in a conversation with Wraith. "Why couldn't you just pick a name that was easier to say?"

"Because the name Crimson Nightshade has much more of a ring to it than 'Red'. Wouldn't you agree?" Crimson then turned and started to head towards a pair of stone doors with the letters CN engraved on them.

"Where do you think you are going?" Wraith called after him, hurrying to keep up with Crimson.

"I am very tired, and unlike you I think I deserve a rest…" He slammed the doors behind him, and Wraith could hear the sound of a bolt being pulled across the door.

Crimson looked around the room. It was not exactly what you would call the most comfortable of rooms but it had a bed, which was really all he was interested in at the moment. It had been a long day, despite the fact that he did not have a job to do.

He lay down on the bed, removing his mask so that it did not cut into his face as he put his head on the pillow. He would have to deliver the letter in the morning, for the last time.

-

"I don't know… I just give up." Erik threw the letter that he was reading back on the desk in front of him. "There is no way I am going to be able to tell who this is by reading the letter. It is too well copied."

Christine was standing behind him. She was quite pleased that he had at last decided that he was getting absolutely nowhere in his endeavour to find out who was his copier and yet also a little disappointed that he had not found out who it was. Christine would have very much liked to have known who it was that had written all of the letters.

"Are you sure that there is no way…"

"I have been reading these letters over and over and it is impossible to tell… all I can do is assume that it is one of 'The Two'." Erik put his head in his hands, annoyed at himself for giving up in his pursuit of answers.

Christine went over to him and put her hands on his shoulders. It did not look like Erik was upset, more aggravated. She decided that it would be best to just leave him to his thoughts, as she could think of nothing to say to him that might make him a little bit happier.

Before she managed to leave the room however, Erik seemed to be struck by a sudden idea. "That's right… they are copying!" He then opened the desk and pulled a pen and paper out of the drawer, followed by a block of wax and his skull seal.

"Erik?" Christine looked at him, somewhat concerned. "What are you doing?"

"Christine…" Erik began, smoothing out the piece of paper which was in the desk, "…there are people that are copying me, correct? What if I just told the managers myself that they are being scared into paying thousands of francs that they need not pay?"

Christine thought that this was a very good idea. For once in her life she actually thought she was going to be glad for Erik to send one of his letters to the managers.

"How are you going to deliver it to them? Porsche?" Christine thought that he may want to get it to them personally.

"I think I will give it to them… or drop it off rather. I need to make sure that they get it, you never know, even as we speak my copier could be placing a letter on their desk." Christine's suspicions were confirmed, but this did not really bother her very much.

Erik then began to write very quickly. He seemed to be very excited about the whole idea stopping the person that was copying him at last. Christine went to look over his shoulder to see what he was writing. There was one line she read that concerned her somewhat.

"Is that really necessary?" She asked, pointing to a line about halfway down the letter.

"I think so…" Erik said, writing the last few words on the piece of paper, folding it up, and placing it inside the envelope, "…after all, it is only fair that they know the reason why I left isn't it?"

"I suppose so." Christine said, watching as he held the wax block over the lamp on the desk, put a blob of it on the envelope and then sealed it with the skull mould. "When are you going to take it to them then?"

"Right now seems to be a good time I think." He replied. He got up from the desk, and put the letter in the inside pocket of his jacket.

Erik then rushed upstairs to put on his hooded cape. He was just about to leave when he thought of something, he went over to the desk that was in the corner of the bedroom and opened the drawer. He took something from it and then left, giving Christine a quick kiss before he did so.

He was nearly running to the Populaire, yet he had to control his excitement. It seemed to take him no time at all to get there. Something caught his attention before he had chance to go round to the stables to sneak in however.

"Read all about it! Anastasia Levian murdered!" Erik rushed over to the man and took a newspaper without paying, "You will have to pay for that sir…"

"Wait a second…" Erik read the headline to make sure what he had heard was true, "…I thought the attempted murder failed?"

"This seemed to be finishing the job sir…" Replied the newspaper salesman, "…now could you please either pay or give that back?"

Erik put the newspaper back on the pile where he had got it from. The sudden happiness that had been flooding through him seemed to have vanished in next to no time. He was not really paying attention when sneaking in to the Opera House, yet he seemed not to be noticed anyway.

He swiftly and silently made his was to the managers' office, just like the day when he had come to retrieve the fake letters. This time however, there seemed to be nobody in there and so Erik just opened the door and entered.

There were no more letters from his mysterious copier, which could only mean one of two things in Erik's opinion. _Either they haven't been yet… or they have stopped… _Erik hoped that it was the second one, yet even if it wasn't it did not matter much, the managers would know the truth soon enough.

Erik again heard footsteps approaching the door. Instead of Firmin walking through the door, this time it was André. Erik had to hide as quickly as he could under the desk. It was a miracle that André did not see him. Erik had not had time to put the letter on the desk and so André just opened the desk drawer and took out some sort of documents. He then turned and left, going back to wherever he had been before he came to the office.

Erik did not waste any time in planting the letter on the desk. He was just making his way over to the door when he again heard footsteps coming from the other side of the door.

_How many times does this man have to come back to his office during the course of a day!?_ Erik thought to himself.

He could not be bothered to go and hide under the desk again. He would just have to knock André out as he walked through the door. Yet when the door opened, it was definitely not André who walked through it.

Erik was looking at a man dressed in red, with a white mask decorated with gold. He could think of only one person who wore such things. The man looked at him with what appeared to be amusement, Erik stared into the red eyes behind the mask. He was in a state of shock.

"And who might you be?" The figure asked in a cold voice. Now that Erik was seeing the man in person rather than reading about him in a newspaper, he saw just how inaccurate the descriptions were.

Yes he was in a red cape, but it was nothing like the one that he had worn to the masquerade ball. In fact he was not sure if it even was a cape, it only came down to his waist, below the waist were a pair of black trousers, and for shoes a pair of hard black buckle boots. The mask had some gold decoration to it, yet it also had dark red and blue near the top.

"Let's see… tall, slim… and is that a white mask I see under that hood of yours?" Erik was extremely glad he had put on his mask in case he did run into anybody. "I can only assume that I am talking to the famous 'Phantom of the Opera'?"

The man certainly had done his research. The knot that had formed in Erik's throat seemed to loosen enough for him to finally speak. "And who are you?"

"My name is Crimson Nightshade…" Erik had a very strong feeling of Déja Vu.

He chuckled to himself. "And let me guess… you are telling me this because you are sure you are going to win?" This would explain why he had not yet unsheathed his weapon. He obviously liked to tease his victims before killing them.

"I don't like the theatrics like my dear friend Wraith, who I am assuming you have met?" Erik nodded. The high cold voice was piercing his ears with every syllable. "He will be delighted to know that he fought with the Phantom…"

"And you want to try the same thing?" Erik asked, the man moved away from him and pulled something out of his pocket. Erik thought he was going to have a gun, yet he turned round with a letter in his hand.

"I am not in the mood for a scrap…" Crimson said. Erik now knew for sure that he was the one copying. "I just came to drop off a letter…"

"Well, allow me to take it from you…" Erik drew a gun from out of his pocket and fired three times into Crimsons head. He fell to the floor but before Erik had a chance to go and unmask the man he could hear footsteps fast approaching the door, obviously attracted by the shots.

Erik ran out of the door as quickly as he could, managing to hide in the shadows before the people approaching got to him. _The letter, you should have taken the letter! _

"My god…" Erik could hear Firmin's voice. He did not want to hang around to hear how this one was going to follow up. He ran from the building as fast as he could.

"Who did this…?" André asked, looking down at the body in the middle of their office, "…more importantly… who is this?"

He knelt down beside the body and turned it over so that it was on its back. André gasped as he saw the mask, the eyes behind it were closed, but both of the managers had a feeling that if they were open they would be bright red.

Firmin suddenly looked very tense. "André…" He started.

"What!?" André snapped at him before Firmin even had chance to start the next part of his sentence.

"We heard gunshots…"

"Oh well heard detective…" André was in a very dramatic state at the sight of the body, and even more so at the thought of who it was, "…now tell me what colour his cape is!"

"If we heard gunshots… where is the blood?" André suddenly looked horrified, he looked back down at the figure, only this time he was staring into a pair of bright red eyes.

"Exactly…" He hit André over the side of the head, then did the same to Firmin. The two of them were knocked unconscious from the force of the blows.

_That will give them a concussion, so there is no need to kill them… Right, time to do what I came here to do… _He put the letter on the desk, obviously not noticing the one which Erik had put there a few minutes before.

He then spotted some bottles on the desk. He picked up two of them and placed them in the managers' hands. _Drink… such a terrible thing, you can't remember anything that happened. _Crimson chuckled to himself and then ran from the Opera House.

It took André about thirty minutes to recover from the blow to the head. He got up, noticing the bottle that was in his hand. He placed it down on the desk and then noticed the letter that Crimson had left behind. He took it, opened it, and began to read it.

_Messieurs_

_This is simply a letter to inform you about a change of plan. I will require you to pay me the twenty five thousand francs a month in two halves. One at the end of the month, and one in the middle of the month. I am sure that I hardly need to tell you this gentlemen, but this means that you pay twelve thousand five hundred francs each time._

_As always your obedient servant._

_O.G_

Firmin chose that very moment to regain consciousness. He got up, also noticing the bottle which was in his hand, and then looked over at André. He saw him with his head in his hands.

"What's the matter with you? It's just a hangover, not as though we haven't had…" Firmin yawned widely, "…them before."

"I am getting fed up with these bloody letters!" Firmin spotted the letter that Erik had left behind.

"Well aren't you going to open it and see what it says?" André looked up at Firmin confused, not knowing what he was talking about.

"I have…" André then held up the letter that Crimson had left, thinking that his colleague must be going blind. Firmin put two and two together and surmised that there were two letters.

Firmin went behind the desk and picked up the unopened letter. Knowing that André would ask to read it after him, Firmin decided that he would read it aloud.

" 'Monsieur's André and Firmin. This is the first letter that I have written to you in eighteen years. I have been informed of the letters that have been sent to you, and let me assure you that these are not from me. Whoever is writing them to you, and I have a good idea who it is, is obviously very good at forging other people's handwriting…" André sat in amazement at what was being read to him, "…you are paying an unnecessary amount of money each month…'"

Firmin could not read any more at this point, he had just thought of all the money they would have lost when they did not have to.

André took the letter and continued. " '…I suppose you are wondering why I left you at all. It was because of the assault on Christine Daae. I know you think that I am obsessed with her but this is far from the truth. Finally as for these murders, you are very wrong in thinking that I am killing people again. I gave that life up eighteen years ago. No longer your obedient servant.' There is no signature."

-

"Thank god for this mask…" Crimson said to Wraith, back in the main chamber of Draconosis headquarters. "…and you said that I was being way too careful by getting it armoured!"

Wraith looked at him questioningly. "How do you mean?"

Crimson thought that he was being deliberately stupid. "I only got shot in the head didn't I!? I would be dead if it wasn't for my 'being way too careful'…"

Wraith thought he was not going to answer back to this comment, but there was just one question that he wanted answered. "Who shot you…?"

Crimson gave a very small chuckle at this, as though he did not really find what he was about to say very funny at all. "The very same person who nearly killed you in the mansion…"

Wraith was very interested by this. "Do you know who that was?"

"Oh yes…" Replied Crimson, about to tell him who it was, but he was cut off before he had the chance.

"How? How can you be certain…?" Wraith was more alive at this very moment than he had been in a while.

"He used the phrase that you like to use the most. 'Because you are sure you will win'…" Wraith felt a bit embarrassed for using this phrase so often now.

"So… who is it?" He very much wanted to know who it was that bested him in a sword fight and nearly killed him.

"The very person who we were trying to impersonate… The Phantom of the Opera…"

* * *

Authors Notes: Right, now it is back on track, so please leave a review to let me know what you think. The double update was a recomendation from my beta, who did not understand chapter 14 on its own, also it makes a nice christmas present for all of you ;). Anyway, as an even better Christmas present, chapters are going to be going up every day after Christmas, there will not be an update tomorrow as Christmas is a time for family. Until then, I wish you all a very merry Christmas...

R


	16. Dark Messenger

Well, as promised i am going to be uploading one chapter every day from now on. So...what does this mean? It means that you are going to have the rest of the story in fifteen days! So, enjoy chapter sixteen...

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Chapter 16- Dark Messenger

The morning had dawned on the Opera Populaire. Things inside the opera house however were not as brilliant as you would have thought if you saw the building from the outside. The managers had taken the Phantom's letter very seriously, and that meant that they had not left any more money in box five for whoever it was who was writing these letters.

The news that somebody had played on their fear of the Phantom of the Opera had far from made them calmer. Instead it had put them much more on edge than they were before they knew. They were very upset at the thought of somebody stealing their money from them and, after all, if they knew what the handwriting of the Phantom looked like then was anybody really safe?

André was sitting at the desk in the managers' office. He was currently looking at the same letter he had been sent by the real Phantom some time ago. He seemed to be very interested by it. Firmin walked into the office and saw what André was looking at.

"You must be able to recite that thing off by heart now…" Firmin joked, walking over to his colleague. This was the first joke that he had actually made in a while.

"Almost…" André replied in a very serious tone that made Firmin laugh, "…I was just thinking… why would the Phantom warn us not to pay this person… I mean he did not seem to mind taking it for himself."

Firmin could see what André was saying, yet it mattered more to him that they had been warned. At least now they did not have to spend unnecessary money. He walked over to the desk and snatched the letter out of André's hand. André made a wild grab to get it back, but Firmin held it out of reach.

"Well let's look at it this way André… we did not pay this fee the last time we were asked to and nothing happened to us, so why should we be complaining about it?"

André gave up trying to get the letter back from Firmin. He did not seem to understand that even though nothing had yet happened to them, it did not mean that nothing would happen to them.

"If that is what you think… at least now we will have a bit more money in our pockets. I was thinking. Why don't we fix up the stage to make it even better than it already is?" André looked very excited at the very thought of this amazing idea of his.

They discussed what they were going to do with the money that they were no longer wasting. They often did this, yet hardly ever carried out any of the plans that they thought up together. This did not really matter however, after all what was the point in being in the business if you did not make anything from it?

Eventually they decided that it was time for them to go and get some lunch. They opened the door and made their way to the dining room. They were in a much better mood than they had been for quite some time.

Around five minutes later the door to the managers' office opened once more. Only this time it was not one of the managers that was walking through, it was not even somebody who was there to drop off another one of these mysterious letters. It was none other then Carrie Daae.

Carrie immediately went over to the desk and searched it. For some strange reason there were no letters the last time she had come to swap them over. This time however she was certain that there were going to be some for her to take. She found what she was looking for almost at once. A letter in an envelope that had been sealed by the red wax skull.

She did not want to stay in the office for too long just in case the managers had forgotten to take something with them and came back to get it. She rushed back to her room as quickly as she possibly could and read the latest letter through no less than twenty times.

-

"It is an outrage!" Shouted Crimson whilst pacing backwards and forwards across the main chamber of Draconosis Headquarters. He was the only one in there except for two others, Wraith and the Woman in the white coat.

"You cannot be sure that it was him that did it, you could be accusing somebody who had absolutely nothing to do with their decision." The woman said in her posh accent.

Crimson looked at her. If looks could kill then his red eyes certainly would have done the trick. "What else would he have been doing there, eh? What!?"

He shouted the last word so loudly at them they actually jumped and the woman let out a little scream at it as well. Both Wraith and the Woman had rarely seen Crimson get this angry before.

"Ok, so even if it is him, what the hell are we going to do about it?" Wraith asked, trying to stay calm yet failing miserably.

"Get the bastard back for what he has done. That little bit of money on the side was just what we needed to keep us going even if there were no jobs to be done." Crimson was in a towering temper. He looked as though he was about to breath fire, which Wraith would not have been surprised if he did. Crimson always had a load of new tricks up his sleeve.

"Yes but how, you are not explaining yourself at all?" The woman sounded half desperate, yet there was a little note of curiosity in her voice as well.

"I have been doing my research into this person. I believe that I now know more than a lot of people do about him. I can tear him limb from limb emotionally until he breaks… that should teach him a lesson for what he has done!" Crimson had stopped pacing now. He just stood there looking at them, waiting for them to pass an opinion on his master plan.

"You still have not explained what it is you are going to do." Wraith pointed out, hoping that this was not going to cause Crimson to go berserk again.

Crimson's eyes suddenly sparkled with an evil that the other two had never seen before. They knew however that this could only mean one thing for somebody like Crimson Nightshade.

"We will have to break him through somebody… a little somebody who I found out was quite close to him…" Crimson sounded so evil it unnerved the two of them to stand there and listen to him, "… and I have a great idea as to what to do to really break him…"

Wraith looked a little worried at this. "And that would be?"

Crimson gave a very menacing chuckle and looked at them. "Send in 'The Messenger'…"

-

_My dear friend Daroga. I trust that you have been keeping well. I do not think that you could have become unwell since the last letter that I wrote to you, but it is polite to ask anyway. Getting to the point of this letter, you are not going to believe what I am about to tell you…_

_I wrote to you some time ago explaining that I had run into one of 'The Two'. Needless to say he was not a very pleasant person, and he was trained in swordsmanship in a way which I have never seen before. Not long ago I ran into the other one of the two, this one would have been half decent if he was not a merciless killer, yet who am I to say something like that if you consider my past?_

_With the second one of the two I thought I had finished him off. I shot him in the head at least twice and yet I could not stay there to see if I had killed him. Still, you would have thought that shooting a person twice in the head would be enough to make sure that they were good and dead…_

_Even though I have done this, I would have thought that there would have been something about it in the paper. After all, these two are probably the most wanted criminals in the whole of Paris. The news that one of them had been killed would surely have been announced by now. My theory is that he did not die, that I must have missed him and he only pretended to fall to the floor dead._

_So, do you have any idea who they could be? I know I ask you this question in every single letter that I write to you, but I just can't help thinking that you may have had a sudden thought as to who it could be. I know that Meg thinks the one dressed in red, who I now know calls himself Crimson Nightshade, is her son. Personally I do not think that he is. He is not the type to go round killing people, and I just did not get the feeling that it was him while I was talking to CN in the managers office._

_One thing that I am now absolutely certain of is that it was CN who was impersonating me and sending the managers the letters which were signed by me. I do not think that they will be receiving any more though, at least not for a long long time._

_Hope to hear from you soon dear friend._

_Erik._

Daroga finally finished reading the long letter that had been written to him by his best friend Erik. The matter of 'The Two', and Erik's ever growing knowledge of them was intriguing him more and more. He wished that he could have gone with Erik to the manor on the day that he had encountered Wraith, yet Daroga was now getting much too old to be considering such things.

Perhaps back in the days when he was the chief of police in Persia he would have done such things, but right now, all that he really could do was rest. Daroga was not really the sort of person who liked to sit around and do nothing however, he could not understand how Erik could sit in front of a piano all day and compose because that would just be to monotonous for Daroga.

He tried his best to keep as fit as possible, now that he was getting old the last thing he wanted to do was become dependant on other people to look after him. Even if he did become dependant on other people however, he did not know who he was going to depend on. After all his wife and children were murdered that fateful day in Persia.

Daroga got up out of the seat his was sitting in, placed the letter on the table in front of him and then made his way to the kitchen. He was going to make himself another cup of his herbal tea. He was sure that if it was not for this he would have been dead long ago.

_I bet that proves to you that it is good stuff Erik… _Daroga chuckled to himself at the thought of what Erik used to say every time he say Daroga drinking his herbal tea. Yes, those were the good days for Daroga, but now he was older and not as agile as he once was he felt that his life was nearing its end.

He heard a knock on his front door. That was odd, he had not been expecting anyone to call that night. Never the less, Daroga went to go and see who his visitor was just in case it was some stranger who was lost and wanted some directions to where they wanted to go.

Another funny thought then flew into Daroga's mind. If there was anything about Erik that he found amusing it was what lengths he would go to to be careful.

He saw only too soon after he thought this why Erik went to these lengths. When he opened the door he was met with a very horrible sight.

"Hello!" The man who was at the door forced his way into the house, knocking Daroga out of the way and slamming the door shut behind him.

Daroga tried to leave through the door straight away, yet it had somehow managed to lock itself, or the man had somehow managed to lock it without him noticing. The masked figure walked through into Daroga's living room, he only then noticed that the man was carrying a black cane.

"Charming place you have here!" The person sounded very jolly, making it evident that he was enjoying everything that was going on at the moment. He was wearing all black, including his mask, which had a pair of black eyes behind the eyeholes.

"Leave this house at once!" Daroga shouted, knowing that his voice must have sounded very feeble and nervous.

"You know what… I don't think I will, I have only just made myself comfortable" The man sat back in the chair and put his hands behind his head.

Daroga rushed over to the drawer in the corner of the room. The man seemed to read his mind, he quickly rushed over to Daroga who had half pulled out a gun from it.

"Ah ah ah… that would spoil the fun!" He easily took the gun out of Daroga's hands. Daroga was nowhere near strong enough to prevent this from happening. The man pocketed the gun and walked back over to the chair that he had been sitting in.

"Who are you…?" Daroga asked, panting for breath, a note of fear also evident in his voice.

"They call me the 'Dark Messenger'." He looked over at Daroga to see his reaction. What Daroga said next however was not what the Dark Messenger was expecting.

"They… who is they?" Daroga was rooted to the spot where he stood in fear. He thought that if he kept this person talking for long enough then someone might come and save him.

"They are Draconosis." Daroga could not believe that this man had answered his question without hesitation and yet he had a horrible feeling that he knew why he had done so. "And may I add that you are the first one to pick up on that straight away!"

_The first one… that means that there have been others before me in this position. _Daroga thought to himself, trying to remain calm even though all of this was happening.

"Now you are supposed to ask what the message is…" The messenger said to Daroga, getting up from where he sat so that he was at Daroga's level when speaking to him, "…otherwise what would be the point in me being here?"

"What if I don't ask then?" Daroga said, trying to sound braver than he actually felt, not quite sure if it was working or not. "Will you go if I ask not to hear this message?"

"Hmmm, I might, but I really think that you will want to hear this message Mr Kahn." So he knew his name, this was something that Daroga really was not prepared for. Hardly anybody he knew called him by his real name, most people just called him by Daroga.

Daroga did not say anythibng. He just looked into the eyes which were behind the black mask. The eyes seemed to be cold, yet also alight with excitement from what was going on. Daroga took a deep breath, then asked the question.

"What is the message then?" The man took off the end of the cane, which turned out to be hollow, then pulled out a piece of paper from inside it. He unrolled it and held the top and bottom of it with each hand.

"Mr Kahn… It is my sorrowful duty to inform you…" He whacked his cane on Daroga's left shoulder at the word 'you', "… that due to an irrational action by your good friend Mr Opera Ghost, your time is almost up…"

Daroga did not really take in all that was said. He was in shock at the fact that whoever this man was he knew that he was friends with Erik. Then the last part of the sentence hit him even harder than the cane had done a few seconds previously. This man was meant to kill him.

"You are going to kill me." It was a statement, not a question. Daroga like any other man feared death and so this little piece of information was enough to make him go mad before he died.

"Oh no, I am simply a messenger. If you were listening closely I said that your time is almost up, not up." The messenger threw the piece of paper at Daroga, all it had on it was what he had just been told. This did not stop him from reading through the piece of paper multiple times. He could not take it in. This had to be some sort of joke. Yet would anybody go as far as breaking and entering as a joke…

Daroga ran for the door, he was not as fast as he once was, yet the messenger did not even make an attempt to stop him. In fact when he got to the door he was very surprised to find that it was once again unlocked. He opened it and began to run off into the night, not wanting to stay in his house for one second longer.

"Go ahead and run!" Called the voice after him, sounding like a court jester, "They like it when you run. Ahahahahahaha" He let out a cackle, and when Daroga looked over his shoulder to look at him, he was gone.

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Authors Notes: I hope you liked it, as always. Please leave a review to let me know what you thought of it, and the next update will be tomorrow!

R


	17. Victories and Vendettas

Anon Review Replies:

**Mythical Nielsen: **Daroga is still healthy at the moment. Everything will be explained in the end, so you will just have to be patient and wait ;). Thank you very much for the review.

**Marie: **Why do you want Daroga to die? You meanie...Anyways, thanks for the review my faithful reviewer.

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Chapter 17- Victories and Vendettas 

Daroga ran as fast as he could into the night. He did not know where he was going to go. There was nowhere close enough for him to go and hide from whoever it was that was coming to kill him. He considered going to Erik's home, but then realised that that would be much too far to run.

He had to try however. He could not just stand there and wait for this murderer to come and kill him. The night seemed to be darker than ever. There were clouds covering the moon meaning that there was no moonlight to aid his vision as he ran through the darkness.

Daroga could think of nothing except what he had been told. His time was almost up. Why would anybody want to send somebody to tell you that you were about to be killed? Perhaps this was one of the sadistic things that whoever was going to kill him liked to do. Daroga thought that this was incredibly cruel. To have the knowledge that you were about to be murdered was much worse than not knowing.

Of course there was always the small chance that whoever the Dark Messenger was he was just some horrible person that liked to tell people this to scare the life out of them. Daroga very much doubted that this was the case. Therefore he continued to run towards Erik's house. His house was far enough even when you could take a leisurely stroll, but running all the way would probably kill Daroga before the murderer had the chance to.

He was gasping for air all the time. Age was certainly becoming a handicap which was impossible to cope with. The cold night air hit his face so hard it felt like daggers cutting his face open. Daroga could not just give up though, he had to get to Erik, he had to try and fight through the fatigue that he was feeling to get there.

Eventually however the pain that he was feeling in his legs from all the running was becoming far too much for him to even think of continuing. He leant against a wall and then noticed that he was right outside the Opera Populaire. Perhaps if he went in there he would be safe. Perhaps he did not have to make the trip to Erik's home.

He then considered what Erik had said in his letter, about how he had met Crimson Nightshade in the Populaire. How was Daroga supposed to know if he was in there or not at this very moment? He could not risk it. He would just have to rest for a while and then continue towards Erik's house.

One thing which Daroga did not know was that two yellow eyes were watching him. Porsche the cat was outside the Populaire. She was still being asked to stay there by Erik, which was a very lucky thing for Daroga. Porsche could see that Daroga was in need of some sort of help and so she dashed off as quickly as she could back home to go and fetch Erik.

Porsche felt very guilty for leaving Daroga there on his own like that. She would have to run as fast as her legs would carry her to get help in time. Daroga's life could be in her hands.

-

"_You do not need that…" Said the high cold voice to Erik._

_They were standing on the stage inside the Populaire. It was Crimson Nightshade who was with him. He was holding a sword out towards Erik. Erik did not have a sword but he was sure that he had attached one to his waist before he had left the house._

_Then he saw that Crimson had his sword and was holding it menacingly in front of Erik, who needed to come up with a second plan. Then he remembered that he had a gun with him, or at least he though he did, yet when he looked down at the holster which it was usually in he saw that it was gone._

"_Looking for this?" A voice behind Erik asked. He span round and saw that it was Wraith who had spoken. Sure enough he was holding Erik's pistol in his right hand._

_Erik then had a sudden thought. He had believed that he had shot Crimson Nightshade in the head not that long ago and, as well trained as Crimson probably was, Erik was sure that he could not survive two bullets in the head._

_He would have to use all of his wits and cunning to win the fight which lay ahead of him and yet he knew that it was very difficult if not impossible to win. After all one unarmed man against two armed men was hardly a fair fight._

_Something then happened which Erik was not expecting at all. Crimson was moving his hands up towards his mask as if to remove it. Erik stood there with baited breath to see who was going to be the man beneath the mask. He was just about to take the mask off his face, when Erik all of a sudden felt very strange, as though something was poking at his face with something sharp, like a needle…_

He then woke with a start. The needle like thing which was poking at his face happened to be none other than Porsche, who was standing on the pillow next to Erik's face, pressing her claws into it to get him to wake up.

"Oh… what is it? Can you not see that I am trying to get some sleep?" Erik sounded extremely tired and grumpy, obviously not appreciating the rude awakening that Porsche had given him.

Erik's thoughts were taken away from the cat for a brief moment. He was trying to remember what was happening in the dream he was having. All he knew was that there were three people in it, him and two others, though he could not remember who they were.

He was suddenly brought back to reality with a bang, which happened to be Porsche hitting him with her paw quite hard on the forehead. She was obviously hungry and wanted Erik to go and get her some food.

"Alright… hang on a second." The cat hissed at him very loudly. Erik was surprised that this did not wake Christine.

Whatever it was that Porsche wanted him to do it was obviously more urgent than getting her some food. Erik jumped out of bed and got dressed, still half asleep and not really caring much about the cat's desperate state. The cat lead him out of the room. Erik grabbed a cloak just in case she was going to lead him outside.

Porsche did lead him outside. As soon as they had gone out of the front door of the house she broke into a run. Erik did not feel like running at all, yet thought that he had best run anyway. He did not want to get clawed to death because he upset Porsche. The two of them ran off into the darkness of the night.

-

Daroga was not recovering very quickly at all. He was still leaning against a wall of some sort just outside the Opera Populaire. He was getting more and more tense. If his time was almost up then that would mean that he was going to be killed very soon.

He watched the people who were walking in the street. He was half expecting one of them to walk up to him and shoot him in the forehead. It seemed however that this was not going to happen. Whoever it was who was planning to take him out was letting him wait, which was causing him to become more and more frightened.

People all around him were laughing and smiling. Daroga wondered what he would have been doing at the moment if he had not been given the news that he was going to be killed. Would he already be dead? Or would he be laughing and smiling like all of these people were? He did not think that he had ever appreciated just how precious life was until that very moment. It was true that he had always appreciated life, but being given the news that yours was going to end with a brutal murder made him see things in a very different light than he had done previously.

Somebody was walking in his direction, yet fortunately for him they just walked by him and went through the alleyway which he was standing next to. It then occurred to Daroga just how stupid it was to stand next to a dark alleyway when in a situation like his and yet if he was going to be killed anyway he was not really sure that it would make much difference.

-

"God cat, what is so important that you have to run this bloody fast!?" Erik was now sprinting to keep up with his cat. From what he could tell they were heading towards the Populaire, which made perfect sense as that was where he had stationed her as a lookout.

The cat did not slow down, and did not seem to have any intentions of doing so. She just continued to run as fast as she could without letting Erik fall behind. Erik could see street lamps. He thought that it would now be best to put up the hood on his cloak. After all he did not know what he was meant to expect.

There were a lot of people about for the time of night that it was, but then Erik remembered that he had not really been out much when it was night-time, mainly because of all the deaths that had been going on. The cat then seemed to slow down. Erik assumed that this was because it would look very odd for people to see a hooded figure chasing a cat around Paris.

They finally ended up right outside the Populaire. Erik was about to go right up to the front doors and force his way in. He did not care about harming the doormen if whatever it was Porsche was trying to tell him was this urgent. Before he even managed to set foot on the bottom most step of the staircase however, he felt claws being pressed very hard into his leg. It was now evident that whatever it was she was so worried about was not in the Opera House.

Erik looked around the street to try and see what it was Porsche had brought him here for. He could not see it at once, and neither, it seemed, could Porsche. He just stood there looking for whatever it was that was the source of all the hassle. He had completely forgotten about being as tired as he was. It all seemed unimportant right now.

Erik then spotted someone who he had not seen in quite a while. Daroga was leaning against a wall on the opposite side of the massive crowd which seemed to have formed. Erik could only assume that it could not be as late as he thought if there were this many people around.

Erik then saw something that made him freeze where he stood. He could see Daroga, yet then he saw another person, somebody in the alleyway next to him. The person in the alleyway was completely dressed in black, and he was wearing a mask.

This last thing that he had noticed sent Erik into panic mode. He ran for Daroga, yet there were so many people around that it was very difficult for him to get anywhere fast.

"Move out of my way!" He shouted at everyone who was around. He wished that he had brought his pistol with him as he could have fired a shot into the air to get everybody to move.

It seemed to take forever to move anywhere. He couldn't have even been halfway towards Daroga yet, and Erik was sure that if he did not get there soon enough then Daroga would surely die. Erik did not think that he would be able to live with himself if Daroga died because he was being too slow to save him.

Daroga could hear people in the crowd screaming. He thought that this must have meant that whoever it was who was coming to kill him was in the crowd. He still had not completely recovered from all of his running. Perhaps it would have been better for him to pace himself rather than sprint flat out to this spot.

He waited for whoever it was in the crowd to come and kill him. All of a sudden he felt a hand close around his throat. Daroga started to hyperventilate. Then a voice whispered into his ear.

"You got the message I hope?" Daroga did not know what to do. He dared not answer because of what could possibly be said next. "Well Dark hasn't yet failed in a job and so I will take your silence as a yes…"

There were even more panicked screams from the crowd. None of them seemed to have noticed that a man was being threatened by a masked murderer. Daroga then heard a voice which lifted his spirits, it was Erik.

"Get the hell out of my way!" This was followed by even more screams. Daroga knew that the man was checking the pulse on his neck.

"Hoping that your friend is going to save you? I am afraid Mr Kahn that this is a false hope. After all, it is his fault that I am here to kill you…" Daroga heard the sound of a knife being unsheathed, he braced himself for the feeling of could steel on his neck.

It did not come, and he soon saw why. Erik had managed to fight his way through the crowd at last. He was now standing about ten metres away from the two of them. Even with him there however Daroga could see no way in which Erik could save him.

"Let him go!" Erik spat, the crowd was looking in on the whole scene. Lots of them were fleeing from it.

"I don't think I will." This man was not one of the two. Erik could tell by the voice that he used. It did not have the high cold voice of Crimson or the low sinister tone of Wraith.

Rain started to pour down on the scene. Erik did not know what he was going to do, and before he even had chance to think of anything, he was to late…

Daroga felt an agonising pain in the right of his chest. The man had stabbed him in the right lung. He fell to the floor, clutching the wound, knowing that doing this was not going to do any good anyway.

Erik ran at the killer. He knocked the knife out of his hands very quickly, it was clear that he was not nearly as well trained as Wraith was when he had fought with him. His mind was not focused completely on the battle though. He was more concerned about Daroga's safety than anything else.

It was now a fist fight between the two of them. Erik did not care just how much damage he dealt to this person. Anybody who threatened the life of his friends did not deserve to live. Erik punched the man as hard as he could in the face, sending him to the floor. He did not waste any time in walking up to him and closing his hand round the man's throat.

"Please don't kill me!" He pleaded, as Erik lifted him up into the air by his throat with one hand. "I am only doing my job…" He pleaded again, "…I am only doing my job!"

Erik's eyes were burning with rage, he was not really listening to him, nor did he feel any pity. "Are you, well here is news for you… you're fired!"

Erik squeezed the killer's neck as hard as he possibly could. In about five seconds he was dead from a broken neck, falling limp to the wet concrete floor. Erik immediately went over to Daroga. He turned him on his back and supported his neck.

"Erik…" Daroga gasped, hardly audible amidst the screams and the rain.

"Try not to speak…" Erik said to him, fighting back the tears which were forming in his eyes.

Erik examined the wound. It seemed to have gone right through his ribcage and punctured his lung. He knew exactly what a punctured lung meant, but did not want to think such thoughts…

"Erik… there is something you have to know…" Daroga's voice sounded so weak that Erik was not sure if he would be able to fight back the tears any longer, "…Draconosis… they work for Draconosis…"

Erik could not help it, tears started to flow freely down his face, they fell onto Daroga like the rain. "You are not going to die… you aren't…"

"Yes I am…" Daroga said, giving a very weak smile, "…Erik…make the most of the life you have. Don't waste it… you never know when it is going to…to…"

Daroga let out one last breath and then went completely limp in Erik's arms. "Daroga…DAROGA!"

Erik did not even try to fight the tears which followed. He could not believe what had just happened. He had had his best friend snatched away from him. His best friend had been taken away by Draconosis… whoever they were.

He laid Daroga down on the pavement, hundreds of different emotions were flooding through Erik all at once and not a single one out of these hundreds was happy.

Erik heard Porsche meow. Looking over he saw her at the body of the killer. He thought it would be a very good idea to see who the killer was, even if it was not Crimson or Wraith.

He removed the black mask. He was looking at the face of a man, who looked at though he was about 30 years old. Erik had never seen whoever it was before in his life. Porsche was looking at something else. Erik looked over at her at the sound of another meow and saw that she had moved the man's cape slightly, uncovering his arm. There on his upper arm shone a 'D', Erik was in no state to really care what this meant.

"You there! You are going to have to come with us…" Erik knew that he was going to have to run to get away from the police who had just turned up. He did not know how he managed to escape them. All he knew was that he had managed to disappear from their sight, and was now walking slowly home.

A red figure atop a building had been surveying the scene. "That makes us even, Phantom…"

* * *

Authors Notes: Eek, I am going to be hated now for killing him...anyway, please leave a review. Next chapter tomorrow.

P.S Hope you had a very merry christmas...

R


	18. A Red Death

Well, here ya go, chapter eighteen... (and please review)

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Chapter 18- A Red Death

The sun shone down on what would have looked like the perfect day to anybody. One person who this was far from a perfect day for however was Erik. Of course he was not the only one, everybody else who had been good friends with Daroga was feeling the sorrow this morning.

Erik breathed in the stale cold morning air. He could not bring himself to speak, or even move. He was kneeling down in front of a large gravestone, a slight breeze blowing in his face, making him squint slightly.

The grave in front of him had the name 'NADIR KAHN' on it. Erik started to hyperventilate, and could not stop tears from flowing down his face. Daroga had been the first person in his life who had not fled at the sight of Erik's facial deformity. This did not matter anymore now though. He was dead, and he was definitely not coming back.

Erik put a hand down on the earth directly in front of the headstone. He knew that not far below the ground lay Daroga and he could not stop thinking about the events of that fateful night or about who had done this to his friend Daroga.

Erik remembered that Daroga had told him something just before he died, but Erik was in no state to remember what this was. He would have to try and remember later. That is if he ever recovered from the current state of shock and disbelief that he was in.

What aggravated Erik even more was the fact that the man who had killed Daroga had not been identified by the police. One thing that he did remember about this man however was that he had a D branded into his arm. Erik had already tried to work out what this meant, but he had had no success in the matter.

_It is all your fault… if you had got to him quicker. _Erik looked down at the ground, tears still flowing down his face. "I could have stopped this from happening… I could have saved you…" He whispered to the ground in front of him.

Erik wiped his eyes and sniffed. He felt a hand being placed on his shoulder, looking up he saw Christine looking down at him, giving him a reassuring smile as if trying to cheer him up slightly.

She looked as though she was waiting for him to get to his feet so that she could give him a hug. She was dressed all in black, with gloves to match. She knelt down beside Erik, realising that he was not going to get up.

"Erik… whatever it is that you are thinking… I want you to know that this was not your fault…" She put her arm round him and Erik put his arm round her. "…you did all you could to try and save him. It was fate…It was his time."

"You should be able to decide your own time!" Erik snapped back, tears starting to flow yet again. "Nobody should have their life taken away from them by another…"

Christine wiped Erik's tears off his cheeks. She could not think of anything to say in reply to this. It was too strong a statement to argue with. "You tried your best to stop it. What else could you have done?"

"I should have been quicker in getting to him. I shouldn't have taken so long to get out of bed and go to him…" Erik was sobbing uncontrollably.

"Erik how were you supposed to know what it was that Porsche wanted?" Christine was trying as hard as she could to make Erik see reason.

"I know her better than anyone else. I should have been able to tell." Erik was not going to budge. He was determined to believe that it was his fault and his alone that Daroga had been killed.

Christine just continued to try and comfort him. She could see that there was no way to make him see reason. Once Erik had his mind set on something there was no changing it.

Erik then got to his feet suddenly, still looking down at the grave. "I swear… I swear…" He gasped between sobs, "…I swear that I will never rest until I see justice done for what has been done to you… I will not rest until I have had my vengeance for you…"

He walked forwards and placed a hand on the gravestone. He had stopped crying now. His face now looked very angry. "Sleep well Daroga…" He turned and began to walk off and then stopped and turned back around, "…I mean… sleep well Nadir…"

Christine thought that this was an unique occasion for Erik to call Daroga by his real name. She thought that it would have been much better if Nadir was not dead when he finally decided to do this.

Erik now had no idea what to do with himself. He did not feel like doing anything at all. This was after all the first time he had ever been to a funeral. It was a miracle that people were not afraid of him, even though he had no mask on to cover his face. Perhaps the world was starting to become a more understanding place. Christine thought that she would leave him alone to his thoughts since she knew that her comforting was doing little if any good.

She went over to talk to Meg. That was if Meg could actually manage to say anything. Otherwise she would just walk with Meg somewhere, and possibly say a few things to her, even though she knew she was probably not going to get a reply.

Erik did not really care what he did and so he just walked over to talk to Byron, who was now on his own due to Christine going to see Meg. Erik could not think of anything to say and so it was fortunate that Byron was the first of the two of them to speak.

"Erik I am so sorry…" Byron said, trying to comfort him, yet had no success just like Christine.

"He should not have died… he died an unclean death…" Erik walked with Byron as well as talking.

"There is nothing anyone could have done… this man was obviously some sort of psycho…" Erik then remembered what it was the Daroga had said to him the night he had died.

"Draconosis…" Erik muttered, more to himself than to Byron.

"What was that?" Byron had obviously not heard him.

"Draconosis, the man who killed Daroga, he worked for Draconosis…" Erik was trying to work out what the hell Draconosis was.

"Who the hell is Draconosis?" Byron asked, obviously as clueless on this subject as Erik was. Erik did not know how he was meant to answer this.

"I don't even know if it is a person… I don't have any idea what Draconosis is…" Erik sounded as though he was about to go into one of his deep thought moments, "…but I am surely going to find out."

He was not quite as enthusiastic as he normally would have been, but then his best friend had been murdered. Erik and Byron continued to walk and talk, both of them trying to work out what Draconosis was. It was not a word that either of them had heard before.

"Are you sure that you have never heard anyone say it?" Erik asked, getting a little bit of his old fire back that he had had before Nadir's death, yet he still was not completely back to normal.

"I have told you, no…" Byron said, still racking his brains to try and think of any slight mention of the word, "…it sounds like something that someone had just made up."

"Made up…" Erik repeated, walking very slowly now, as though he had just realised something and yet not quite fine tuned the details, "…the arm…"

Erik then put his left hand up to his upper right arm and rubbed it slightly, as though thinking back to something. "I'm sorry?" Byron asked, not knowing what the hell Erik was on about.

"There was a D on the arm of the killer… what if…" Erik put a hand up to his forehead as though considering what he was saying, "…what if the D stood for Draconosis?"

The more Erik thought about this the more it made sense. This person was working for either a man called Draconosis or an organisation called Draconosis. Erik was determined to find out which one it was, yet did not know how he was going to do this.

"Then that would mean… what would it mean?" Byron did not seem to be as quick a thinker as Erik was, but this did not seem to concern Erik in the slightest. "Hey, where are you going?"

Erik had started to walk off. He did not feel the need to reply to Byron. He was much more concerned about finding out more about Draconosis. It was more crucial than anything else at the moment. It was not for him. It was for Daroga.

He headed off to the library. If there was anywhere he could search for information it was there. Erik was sure that there would be something in history to do with Draconosis. There must have been something that happened in the past to do with whatever this was.

It did not take him as long as he thought it would to go from the cemetery to the Library. He did not even care that he was going into a very public place without his mask on. In fact it seemed to be drawing very little attention indeed.

Once at the library he immediately pulled down a handful of books that looked as though they might contain some information about Draconosis. He started to read. It was very lucky that this was one of his favourite pass times otherwise he would have found it a very tedious job indeed.

Book after book came down from the shelves. There was absolutely no way of finding it in just a skim read of them however. He would need to read each book from cover to cover in order to be absolutely certain that there was no information he was looking for in them.

It was almost for certain however that if there was anything about Draconosis in the books then it would be in the contents. After all, something that is to do with murderers that kill without any thought whatsoever would be worth a section of its own in a book.

_This is going to take a while to find. _He thought to himself, looking through at least the twentieth book. _You may be here overnight…_

-

"Do you really think that it was worth it?" The woman in the white coat asked Crimson, "I mean, we lost one of our own members. For all we know people could be learning our location as we speak."

Wraith gave a small chuckle. "I agree. Maybe you are losing your sense of Judgement…"

Crimson flashed him a very evil look. "This is coming from the man who nearly died while fighting the person we were targeting… or better still, coming from the person who could not kill a little girl!"

Wraith looked as though he was about to draw his sword and start fighting Crimson but he was restrained by the woman who seemed to be able read the look on his face.

"The point is that we got to him… he will not be interfering with out plans again." Crimson said, not totally convinced that this would teach the Phantom to leave them alone.

"Or it could just anger him more and drive him to try to find us even more…" Wraith replied, showing Crimson the flaw in his great master plan.

Crimson gave a small chuckle. "Well at least we know we can rely on you to distract him by dying at his feet when he comes to find us, don't we?"

Wraith actually did draw his sword this time, as did Crimson. The two swords met but neither of them looked as though they were about to strike the other.

"That is enough!" The woman said, pushing the swords apart and stepping in between them. "You two can sort out your differences elsewhere, but not in front of me!"

Neither of them seemed to be listening to this last bit. They just sheathed their weapons and looked at each other menacingly. It was clear that the two of them had not really got on with each other since the Frelques job.

"Well, Crimson I must say that I tend to agree with you. I doubt that he will dare meddle with us again." One thing that was in her mind was the fact that she did not think that the Phantom actually knew it was Draconosis that he was dealing with.

"Of course he won't. What is the point of risking more deaths of his loved ones?" Crimson thought that he had definitely made the right decision in killing the Persian.

Even if the Phantom did decide to try and track them down it did not really matter. All it would mean was that if he did find their lair he would be outnumbered and easily dealt with.

Wraith decided to go and rest. He did not really want to stay in the company of Crimson any longer. This gave the woman and Crimson a chance to talk.

"You know you should really try to be a little nicer to him." She advised Crimson in her best aristocratic accent.

"And why should I? He was never nice to me when I first joined up. I am just repaying a debt… a debt that is long overdue." Crimson then started to walk away but the woman was not having any of this.

"Don't you walk away from me while I am talking to you!" Crimson could not help but chuckle at her accent. He knew that this would enrage her further.

"And why not? Don't you think that Wraith would get a little bit jealous if he heard you say that to me?" Crimson then took her momentary silence to leave her alone in the chamber. He did not really feel like getting into an argument with her.

-

Erik was now getting very annoyed at his lack of luck with all the books that he had looked through. He knew that it must be in one of the books however, there must be some information on such a peculiar word.

He was seriously starting to wonder if he would ever read another book again by the time he was done searching. He definitely would not if he did not manage to find anything about Draconosis. All he could do was tell himself that it was just there waiting to be found. He pulled down another armful of books and started with the one on top of the new pile.

He must have been in the library for hours. The librarian had told him many times that he had to leave but he had refused point blank to go. The woman actually seemed to pity him because of his face being badly scarred, which was the last thing he would expect a total stranger to do.

She had allowed him to stay in the library and search, which Erik thanked her for. It must have been hours past closing time now though, and still no luck. Erik was reading a boring history book, he was not really paying much attention to what he was doing at all now, but willed himself to keep going anyway.

He was almost certain that he was not going to find anything, and that it would be better to resume his search in morning. He did a double take however when searching through one particular section of the book that he was currently reading. He was sure that he had seen the word he was looking for.

Reading it again he saw that he was correct. The word 'Draconosis' was right in the middle of the paragraph he had been skimming through. Now that he had seen this he felt wide awake, and therefore started to read the paragraph very carefully.

_Perhaps the most dangerous secret society of all time was a band of assassins who called themselves 'Draconosis'. They are believed to have disbanded after their lair was raided by the police. The leader of this group is still yet to be identified, nobody we have questioned yet knows his name. It was now safe in Paris. Their underground base was found, and all 40 members caught there were executed._

Erik nearly fainted when he read the number forty. He thought that there would be around ten of these people at most, but forty was just going to far. Erik then reminded himself that this was some time ago, and the chances of there being the same number of members was highly unlikely.

He could not shake the feeling however that this was probably a very accurate figure and indicated that it was probably quite close to the number of members that there were today.

Erik could not even be certain that the Draconosis that Daroga had told him about was an assassins' league. He had the horrible feeling however that it was, and therefore wanted to remain constantly vigilant against anything that they might throw at Paris.

One thing was absolutely clear in Erik's mind. If they came anywhere near him, his family or friends again, then he would personally make sure that every last member was killed in a slow and painful way.

Who he was out to get more than ever now however, was Crimson Nightshade. Now Erik had a little piece of information that would help him in finding him, he knew that he more than likely worked for Draconosis, and this was more than enough than Erik needed to know to begin his search for the assassins…


	19. Destiny's Curse

Some of you may have noticed that there was no authors notes at the end of the last chapter, that is because i am sure you are all getting tired of the usual plea for reviews. Anyways, the word count for all of the chapters from this one onwards has been increased by one thousand, giving a total of at least 4k per chap.

Enjoy!

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Chapter 19- Destiny's Curse

"This is mad. I thought that two of them would be more than enough to handle, but forty!" Erik had been in a very panicky mood. Ever since he had read what was in that book he had found in the library he had become even more paranoid.

"You do not know for sure that there are forty. There could be just two. Think about it. If there were forty there would have been loads of murders taking place." Erik had of course told Christine what he had found. She was worried at this information at first but now that she had given it a lot of thought, she could not see why Erik was so worried.

"They wouldn't want to draw that much attention to themselves would they?" Erik said. As though this was one of the most obvious things in the world.

"Well why not go to the police then?" Christine asked, thinking that this would be one of the most logical courses of action.

Erik laughed. "You really think that the police would actually be able to do anything that I can't?" He began to pace backwards and forwards across the room, fidgeting slightly.

"No, I suppose not, but it would still be the right thing to do…" She began, then thought of a good way to follow this up, "…if they are not alerted then it is just putting more peoples' lives in danger, isn't it?"

Erik could see what she was trying to get at but still did not think that she was entirely correct. "So if the police know then they are going to be able to stop them every time they go to kill someone are they?"

Christine let out a sigh, and then went over to sit in one of the comfortable chairs in front of the fireplace. "They have much more of a chance of stopping them if they know what it is they are dealing with… at the moment they have not got a clue. So the decent thing to do would be to tell them."

They both fell silent. Erik started to get lost in his own thoughts. _Yes, that would be the decent thing, but don't they still think that I am one of the two? They are hardly likely to listen to me._

Christine's next few words made it sound as though she had just read his mind. "I mean, you don't even have to go and tell them yourself. I could go and tell them if you like…"

Erik looked over at her from where he was standing. If she went and told them then there would be a much better chance that they would listen. "Yes…" Erik began, rubbing his hands together, "…you could do that if you want, but I still don't see what good it is going to do."

Christine could not be bothered to repeat what she had already said to him. If he was not listening or did not agree with her then that would be his problem and not hers.

"I will go and tell them later…" Christine began, but then Erik suddenly cut her off.

"Don't go out at night, and if possible do not go alone. That would be a reckless thing to do." He looked at Christine with a very concerned look on his face but Christine looked back at him blankly.

"Please…" Christine began, chucking a bit, "…you don't think that I am that stupid do you?"

Erik was about to say something apologetic to her but she just laughed. Erik was silent for a few seconds, but then laughed along with her, thinking that he was a bit too protective to say something as obvious as that to Christine.

"I will go out later in the afternoon and be back before it gets dark." She reassured him. She got up and went into the kitchen. Erik followed her so that they could continue to talk.

"What exactly are you going to say to them…I mean they will ask you questions as to how you know these things won't they?" Erik asked while Christine was filling up the cats' food bowls.

"I don't know…" Christine began, starting to fill up the remaining bowls with milk, "…something will come to me when I get there…"

Erik did not think that this sounded like a very wise plan at all, but felt it was best not to argue. He had much more pressing matters on his hands. "I have to go and do some work…"

"Work?" Christine asked, wondering what this could possibly mean. "You mean composing?" This was about the only thing she could think of that Erik did which could be referred to as work.

"No…" Erik began, turning round ready to leave the room, "…I am trying to work out where the base of Draconosis is… I am sure that it is in Paris, and…" He broke off, a sudden thought coming into his mind that seemed to be causing him a little bit of pain. "If my mother could find out where I lived then surely I can find out where they reside…"

His voice sounded full of hatred at the very mention of his mother. Not that Christine could blame him after what she had done to his previous home. "I am sure you can, but what are you going to do if you do find them? It is not as though you can just walk in there with a sword and a pistol and kill them all is it?"

Erik gave a small chuckle at this and then thought that he would use her very own words against her. "I don't know, something will come to me when I get there…"

Christine scowled at him, though he did not see as he was walking into the study at the time. Christine heard a noise coming from the floor. Looking down she saw that the cats had already started to tuck into their food. _You greedy things… could you leave the opportunity of food alone for at least five seconds? _She smiled to herself and then made them both a cup of tea each.

-

"Aborted?" Wraith asked Crimson, wondering what caused this sudden change of plan, "Why the hell has he decided to abort it all of a sudden?"

Crimson sighed, they were both currently standing at the foot of the staircase which led up to where the boss was. He did not really know how he was meant to answer this question but thought it would be best to try and give as good an answer as he could.

"I suppose he just thinks that it would be a rather reckless operation for us to all undertake…" He pushed his way through a small crowed of about four people who were all eager to get answers from him.

"But…" Began one of them, who did not really know what he was going to say, "…how would it be reckless? I thought it was going to be a great asset to us…"

Crimson did not really like being asked questions which he could not give a decent answer to. This more often than not meant he had to improvise a believable answer just to get away from people.

"I don't really know myself. As far as the public know there are two of us in Paris that assassinate people, and revealing to them that there are more would be an extremely foolish thing to do. Wouldn't you say?" There were a few murmurs of agreement, even though they did sound disappointed.

"I was quite looking forward to this." Said the woman in the white coat, "When was the last time I was given a decent job to do?"

For the first time her posh voice sounded sorrowful, and maybe even jealous. "Well what do you want me to do about it!?" Crimson snapped at her, getting overly frustrated by the whole situation now, "I am not the one that makes the decisions around here. He is!" He pointed his thumb over his shoulder at the large doors at the top of the staircase behind him.

He tried to walk off, but yet again he was stopped, this time by another woman. "I have been doing menial tasks for I don't know how long, and for once I am told that I am going to be part of a big operation… now you are telling me it is aborted?"

"For the last time it is neither my fault nor my decision!" He shouted. Half thinking that he would have to draw his blade and fight his way through the angry mob.

"I'm sure that you must have some say in it." Said a different woman this time, "…after all, ever since Wraith messed everything up you have been the boss's right hand man. I am sure that he will listen to you if you just talk to him…"

"You think I didn't argue!?" His temper had just about reached boiling point now. He could not believe that everybody was being so persistent over a decision that they could not change. "I wanted to do this job as much as the rest of you. So if you have a problem with it then you can go and sort it out with the boss, OK?"

Everybody fell silent. It was common knowledge amongst all of them that if you argued with the boss then you would either end up seriously injured or dead. Unless of course you were his 'right hand man' like Crimson.

"Stop blaming Crimson please…" Echoed a voice from all around the chamber, breaking the silence like the crack of a whip, "…I am sure that you are all very disappointed, and I do intend to make it up to all of you if you just give me the time…"

Wraith shuddered slightly at the sound of the voice, though nobody really seemed to notice. Crimson was the only one who really seemed to be perfectly calm at the moment. Even grateful for the fact that the boss had come to his aid.

"But why the hell have you decided to abort?" The woman in the white coat shouted to the disembodied voice, sounding much braver than she actually looked.

"For your safety more than anything…" The low sinister voice replied, not in a shout but loud enough for them to all hear him clearly, "…this would have been our biggest operation, but would it have not also been our most dangerous?"

_What do you care?_ Crimson thought to himself, thankful that he was wearing a mask so that his sarcastic smile was not visible to anyone. _All you do is order us around anyway, you don't go out there risking your neck against armed police…_

"Murdering somebody that important would have caused every single other investigation in the country to stop, and no matter how well hidden we are you can bet they would have found us within a matter of days. Now, does anybody still have objections for aborting this job?"

Nobody dared to say anything. Everyone looked at each other, as though trying to communicate by thought. It was clear that the woman still had a lot of objections for not doing the job but she still did not say anything.

Crimson was sure that the boss was going to be able to tell what she was thinking by the look on her face, yet he either could not tell, or could not be bothered to waste his breath in saying anything to her.

"Good, Crimson will inform you on all future jobs. Until then carry on with your usual tasks. I will do all that I can to make sure that you get what you want…" The voice did not speak again after this, leaving them to their thoughts.

Crimson now did not feel like staying at the base. So he left the main chamber and made his way through the passages to the exit. He was just about to leave when he sensed somebody behind him. Turning round he saw Wraith looking at him with an apologetic look in his eyes.

"Sorry for blaming you…" He said. Then without another word walked past him and out into the sunlight. Crimson changed his mind in wanting to leave and so made his way back to his living quarters.

-

"Draconosis?" Asked the policeman who was sitting behind the desk, skimming through some very boring looking documents. "From what I heard they were all caught and executed a long time ago…"

"Yes, but now they are back…" Christine informed him, trying to sound as though this is something that anyone would know, "…what are you going to…"

"How do you know they are back?" Asked the officer, looking up from the documents straight into her eyes.

"I was in the crowd the night that the Persian man was killed." Christine said, not really having a clue how this was going to help her.

"And…?" The policeman said, clearly not at all interested by her story, "…how does that make you so certain that they have returned?"

Christine had to do some very quick thinking. She thought back to what Erik had said. "The killers arm… he had a 'D' burned into it. Is that not the mark of a Draconosis member?"

"I don't have a clue…" Admitted the police officer, now returning to the boring looking documents in front of him, "…if that were the case I think that it would have been put on record the last time they were around."

Christine could not believe that this man was being so stubborn towards her. She did even more quick thinking to try and carry on arguing her case. It took her a little bit longer than she would have hoped but she thought that the next thing she said would make this man listen to her.

"I was near the front of the crowd though…" She paused as though making up for the long delay in this statement, "…the Persian, I heard him say the word Draconosis."

This seemed to finally catch the policeman's interest at last. "Are you sure that its what you heard?"

Christine nodded, thinking that it would be best for her to not speak unless her voice gave away that she was lying. In truth she was only half lying. All of this had happened, but it had not been her that had heard Daroga say all of this.

"It cannot be true… the leader was killed the first time they were around… who would possibly want to bring them back?" The man was talking more to himself than he was to Christine. He fidgeted with the pen he had in his right hand, looking as though he was concentrating very hard on finding an answer to his own question.

"Well, I have come to the conclusion that Wr… The Two are almost certainly members…" She had nearly said Wraith, but if she had done then that would have lead to some very awkward questions.

"That is a possibility…" Agreed the officer looking up at her, "…yet we cannot be jumping to conclusions too soon…"

They were both silent. Christine seemed to have won the officer over. So at least that was one of her intentions accomplished. All of a sudden he got up and made his way over to a door in the corner of the room. Christine was about to ask where he was going, but he turned round and told her before he left.

"This is much too important for me to deal with. I am going to get somebody with more experience in this sort of thing to talk to you…" He left.

Christine waited for what must have been around a quarter of an hour. At last however the officer returned with a man who Christine assumed to be a detective. He was wearing a brown overcoat and a fedora.

"How do you do Miss Daae…" He said, holding out a hand to shake hers.

"Very well thank you Mr…?" She did not know his name, so waited for him to tell her.

"Smith…" Christine thought that this was a very common name for him to have, "…I have been told that you believe that Draconosis have returned… I cannot say that I am the least bit surprised. Ever since I heard that they existed I thought there would be a chance of their return…"

Christine was very glad that he was not like the previous officer and begin by denying the very possibility. "Do you have any idea of where they may be?" She asked, trying to think of where so many people could reside unnoticed.

"Beneath Paris somewhere more than likely…" He answered. Christine thought that he had obviously done his research into the subject to know something like this.

"Couldn't you be a bit more specific…?" She asked, wanting to know more on the matter so she could tell Erik.

"It is really none of your concern Miss Daae. It is really in the hands of the police now and so there is really no need for you to know anymore than you need to." Christine thought that it might come to this but all she really wanted to do was alert the police. Any more information would have just been a bonus.

"There is really no point of me staying here any longer then, is there?" She said, picking up the coat that she had put on the back of the chair when she got there. "Thank you very much for listening to me good messieurs, au revoir…"

She turned and left, making her way as quickly as she possibly could back home to tell Erik the good news. _I wonder if Erik has found out anything more about them? _She thought to herself, but found it very unlikely that she would have done. She pulled her coat tightly around her as the cold wind hit her. She thought she might die of the cold if she did not get home soon.

-

"What is wrong?" Wraith asked the woman. She did not answer him immediately just continued to keep her back turned to him. "Is it something I have done to upset you?"

"To a degree…" The woman replied in her posh voice, yet still sounding sullen, "…but not really."

Wraith could not really think what he had done. He had been acting as normally as ever over the past few weeks but her attitude seemed to change towards him in a matter of minutes.

"It is just that you actually get to go out there and do something once in a while, whereas I get to sit here and do a load of boring work!" She shouted at him. It was lucky that the room they were in was relatively soundproof otherwise Wraith was sure that people would be knocking on the door and asking what was going on.

"What has that got to do with anything!?" Wraith was taken aback by her answer, and now could not think of any way to calm her down.

"Oh do use your common sense…" She spat at him, shaking his hand off of her shoulder when he put it there, "… it is as though I am cursed to bloody sit around and do nothing. As though I have not proved my skills above everyone else… even you!"

Wraith knew exactly what she was referring to when she said about proving her skills. "If you had the choice would you have really wanted to prove your skills above everyone?"

She did not answer. The thought of how she had gone about proving herself to everyone, including the boss, was much too painful to discuss. Wraith was surprised when she followed it up however.

"I could have died one thousand times in one thousand different ways. Yet I am still here, without a scratch but you have not endured what I have and you still get to go out there and do something interesting!"

If Wraith thought that the boss could not hear him he would have said that there was nothing interesting about killing innocent people. She thought that it was a curse that she only very rarely got to shed blood, whereas Wraith thought it was a curse that he had to shed blood so often if he did not want his own blood spilled.

Wraith accidentally chuckled at his thoughts, causing the woman to become even more angry than she had been previously. "And what is so funny about that!?" She spat at him in an angry whisper.

"Nothing… I just think that we all have our opinions about our work, especially you…" He then remembered something that she had told him, "…first you must complete the tasks you are given."

"I think that I have completed more than enough tasks to earn my right to a more challenging role in this organisation…"

"It is not as though you have not been out on an assassination job before is it?" Wraith asked, knowing full well what the answer was going to be.

"No, but it has been a bloody long time since I have." Wraith was running out of ideas of how to calm her down.

"Think of it as an opportunity for us to spend a bit more time together…" He said to her, putting his hands on her shoulders, "…unless you don't like being with me?"

This seemed to have the effect that he wanted. The woman seemed to lose all of her anger at once and flung her arms around him. "You know I do…"

Wraith knew that this would calm her down a bit. _When in doubt use the don't you love me anymore line to calm them down… _He thought to himself, smiling behind his mask.

"When do you next have a job?" She asked him, finally loosening her grip on his waist a bit.

"I don't know. I have not been told yet." He answered, running his fingers through her blonde hair and looking down into her blue eyes.

This seemed to please her a great deal. She began to lift up his mask, wanting to kiss him, but he stopped her. "Not here, you know it is not allowed…"

"Oh yes, and so many people are going to see us here aren't they?" She said in a very sarcastic tone which did not match her accent in the slightest, making her sound extremely comical.

"Maybe you should just learn to control yourself a bit more… after all isn't that what you have said to me in the past?" She hated it when her own words were used against her, yet she decided that he was probably right and let go of his mask.

"Fine… but when we get out of here…" She was suddenly struck by a sudden thought, "…where did you go earlier?"

Wraith thought she might ask him this. "I had to go and check on somebody… even though I have left them it does not mean that I cannot go and see them ever again…"

This made the woman look very upset. "Lucky you, you actually have somebody outside Draconosis to go to…"

She struggled out of his grip, turned round and headed to the door. Wraith tried to think of something to say to stop her from going but she said something to silence him before he had the chance.

"You know… other members envy you for having people outside of Draconosis, even if you don't speak to them, or even if they don't see you. So maybe you should consider what it is you are saying before you say it!"

She opened the door and slammed it behind her as she left. He was thinking about going after her but thought that this would be a very stupid thing to do considering the mood she was now in. So he just stood there left to his own thoughts. _Well done Wraith, you really do have a way with words…_


	20. Too Close for Comfort

Right, well... only ten chaps to go after this one! Everybody be happy, when this is all uploaded i may start uploaded the third straight away...if you are lucky. Anyway, enjoy chapter twenty...

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Chapter 20- Too Close for Comfort

"Argh! I can't stand this anymore!" Byron exploded, causing Meg to jump slightly. "Meg…please tell me what it is that is wrong with you. I can help you if you just talk to me!"

It came as no surprise to Byron that Meg just sat there in her chair in total silence. She began to rub her hands together as though they were cold and yet the room was very hot and nearly causing Byron to sweat.

Discovering that the loud approach had no effect Byron decided to go over to her, kneel down in front of her and put his hands on her shoulders in a very comforting way. Meg just looked at him with the all too familiar blank expression which she had worn ever since the day she had accused her own son of being one of 'The Two'.

"Meg…" Byron had tears streaming down his face, "…please say something… anything, just let me know that you can still speak…"

Meg again said nothing, causing Byron to sob uncontrollably, looking at his knees. He thought the time had come to go and see somebody again for some help on the subject. After all it had been a long time since he had last gone so the time was ripe for him to go again and see if everything was finally ready.

"I am going out… I will see you later…" Byron stammered whilst walking over to the door. Meg did not seem to be the slightest bit interested in what he was saying. Her face had changed its expression from one of complete blankness to one of deep concentration.

There was really only one thing that was currently on her mind and that was of her son, Michel, who she was one hundred percent certain was a killer. It seemed that nothing anybody told her or any evidence presented to the contrary was going to change her mind.

She continued to just sit there, this thought driving an emotion of hatred through her like a bullet from a gun. There was nothing for it, she was going to have to go outside and clear her head in the fresh air. Taking walks always seemed to help her to think more clearly and more rationally.

She got up, put on something that would keep her warm and went out of the front door. The thought continued to stay with her as it had done for the past few months. Meg did not know where she was going to go and so she just headed off into the darkness, letting her feet carry her wherever they felt like.

-

"Interesting…" Muttered Firmin to himself, causing André to look over at him, "…for once he has actually told us something interesting…"

André did not even have to guess to know who it was that Firmin was referring to. "You mean that mysterious detective whose name we still do not know?"

Firmin nodded and continued to read the piece of paper which was on the desk in front of him. "At least we know that he gets results… even if we do not get them very often!"

He accidentally shouted the last few words, causing André to give a very small jump. "So…" He began, taking a step towards the desk whilst looking at the paper on it, "…am I allowed to see what this result is?"

Firmin flicked the piece of paper, causing it to glide smoothly towards André. He read through the letter he was now holding several times. At first he could not make any sense of it at all, but then he used a bit of logic to work out what the meaning of it was.

"Draconosis?" He said aloud. Firmin looked over at him as he said this word.

"Yes…" He replied in a dreamy sort of voice, "... I have never heard of them. So don't ask me who they are supposed to be."

André read through the letter yet again. From what he could tell it was saying that a dangerous group who called themselves 'Draconosis' had reformed. The other thing it was asking the managers to do was to be careful, as the chances were that 'The Two' were with this group.

"It is bad enough knowing that they got thousands and thousands of francs out of us, but now we know that there are more of them!" Firmin exclaimed, putting his head in his hands.

"Calm down Richard! Chances are that this is just the police force trying to look as though they are doing their job and not really knowing whether or not they are right in what they are saying!" André reassured him, not really knowing whether or not what he was saying could be true or not.

"Oh do not be so bloody stupid man! The police are not like that. They would not tell us this sort of thing unless they were absolutely certain of what they were saying." Firmin was not going to let André plant a false hope in his mind.

André sighed. He could tell that there was no use trying to calm Firmin down when he was in one of his melodramatic moods. Firmin opened one of the drawers and pulled out a bottle which he had put in there earlier.

He poured out a glass of whisky for himself. "You want one?" André shook his head.

"I have had enough hangovers in my life to write a decent sized novel explaining what it feels like to have a hangover." Firmin gave a small chuckle at this and was a little more careful with the amount that he drank from then on.

"Well, maybe there is no point worrying about it… I mean it is really none of our concern. Let the police deal with it. It is their problem after all…" Firmin admitted, pouring himself a second glass of whisky and staring at it blankly.

"That's the spirit…" André said, finding it difficult not to laugh at the unintentional pun.

-

"Do you think they believed you?" Erik asked Christine excitedly.

Christine nodded. She did not really know what to say. For some reason she was not really in the mood. The dark night seemed to be affecting her mood, even though there was no reason at all to be unhappy.

"They seemed very intrigued by what I had to tell them." She said, not able to think of anything more interesting to say and feeling like a bit of a fool because of this.

"Really…" Erik said, moving over to the chair which was opposite Christine and sitting in it, "…that is good. It means that they might actually put some effort into catching these madmen."

Christine did not reply. She had the strangest feeling that something very bad was going to happen soon. The thing that she hated the most was that her bad feelings usually turned out to be true. There was absolutely nothing to suggest this however and so she pushed the feeling to the back of her mind for the time being.

"Why do you think that Meg thinks her own son is one of them?" Christine asked Erik. She did not know why this thought had suddenly come into her mind but she did not much care anyway.

"Who knows…" Erik replied, not really caring much about Meg, "…she is probably just blowing the whole thing out of proportion. Knowing her if we told her there were more of them she would accuse her husband as well."

Christine could not help but think that this was probably true. Any chance for Meg to get a bit dramatic and she would. Was it really like her to not utter a single word for months and months though?

"Hmmm…" Christine said out loud, not having a clue what she was going to say, "…I'll have a talk with her tomorrow and see if I can get anything out of her."

Christine's voice was full of doubt which she seemed to be making no attempt at all to conceal. Erik seemed to notice this and nearly chuckled, yet managed to contain himself. He did not want to have another pointless argument with Christine. They had been having far too many recently.

"Ironic…" Erik said in barely more than a whisper, "…she used to be the loudmouth…the gossip… but now she is not speaking at all. That is very strange."

Christine again agreed with him. This thought had crossed her mind before but it was not a very comforting one. She had come to the conclusion that Meg had lost the ability to speak completely. If she could speak Christine was sure that she would have told Byron everything.

"Maybe the thought of it being her son has caused her to lose her voice…" Christine wondered out loud. Erik gave a small nod in agreement.

"Perhaps though, she does not actually know for sure that it is him. If she knew for sure she would more than likely die of shock." Christine did not like the thought that Erik saying this might be true.

"You should not say things like that…" Christine said, not as angrily as Erik thought she would have normally, "…you never know what might happen in the future."

"Sorry…" He said quickly before a full scale argument broke out, "…I was just thinking out loud. You know that I do that sometimes."

Neither of them said much more. The topic of Meg seemed to be all they ever talked about recently and that was not really a very happy subject to discuss. Christine finally decided that it would be best for her to get an early night and sleep off all of her bad feelings.

Erik did not join her. He wanted to do some more composing which he had not done any in quite a while now. His opera was coming along very nicely now. He had composed so much over the last eighteen years that his progress seemed to become faster and faster.

-

Jake was sitting at his new desk working through some documents. He could not believe just how much paper work this job entailed. He would have thought that it was a much more hands on job than it really was.

"How long do you think you are going to be with them?" His boss asked, coming over to see how his progress was coming on.

"About an hour maximum…" He replied, not even looking up at him as he was in a state of deep concentration, "…but if you are very lucky I could have them all done in half."

"That's good." He walked over to the door as though to leave but just opened it, looked out and then closed it again.

"Expecting someone?" Jake asked, tearing his eyes away from the paper work for a second.

"Yes… there have been some recent events that might require our attention…" Jake had a relatively good idea what it was his boss was referring to but did not voice it just in case he was wrong.

"If it means more paper work then I can only hope that it does not require our attention…" Jake said, imagining what the work would be like if it had his boss eagerly awaiting somebody.

"Right… can I have a count on the figures so far?" He asked, not really taking in what Jake had just said at all.

"Of course, give me a second…"He grabbed the piece of the paper which he had sub consciously been taking notes on, "…so far we are plus three thousand four hundred."

"Excellent!" His boss looked as though he was ready to sing. What Jake said next was nearly enough to destroy his momentary happiness.

"So far I said, I am only just over half done remember…" He went back to the large pile of papers which were in front of him and continued to work his way though them.

"Yes I know, but with any luck that number will only get bigger!" Jake had no idea that his boss was so greedy when it came to money.

He continued to work his way through all of the papers in front of him. He was very put off when his boss came round behind him and started to read everything over his shoulder.

"I thought you wanted me to work through this as quickly as possible…it is quite difficult to concentrate with you standing there." In any other job this would have usually earned a rebuke for you, but his boss just walked to the other side of the room.

It did not take Jake that much longer to work through the papers. He let out a sigh of relief when he finally saw the desk instead of a white sheet of paper.

"Ok…I have a figure…" He said, looking at the notes he had been taking, "…final count is five thousand three hundred and sixty two…"

His boss looked as though he was about to celebrate, but then saw a flaw in Jakes sentence. "Is that up or down?"

Jake smiled. "Luckily it is up…"

"Brilliant!" He shouted, looking as though all of his wishes had just been granted.

-

"You have been paying an unnecessary amount of money…" Carrie muttered to herself, pacing backwards and forwards across her room.

It had been a while now since she had taken the letter which was written by the real Phantom, unless of course this was just a cover up and he had actually been writing all of them. Carrie had read and re-read the letter so many times she could recite it word for word.

This did not stop her from constantly looking through the letter to see if she recognised the handwriting, even though it was exactly the same to the other letters that she had taken in the past. Nevertheless she was sure that she had seen the writing before somewhere even though she could not quite work out when.

There was a knock on her door all of a sudden. She jumped and nearly dropped the letter. Carrie quickly went over to the desk and put the letter away. She did not want whoever it was at the door to think she was stealing.

Opening the door she saw Andrea standing in front of her. Carrie could not think why she would want to come and see her so late at night.

"Are you ok?" She asked her as Andrea let herself into the room.

"I'm fine. I just can't sleep at the moment that's all…" She then let out a very long yawn. Carrie wished that she hadn't. Whenever somebody yawned in front of her she would always yawn after them.

Sure enough Carrie let out a long yawn after her. "Why… why is that?"

She thought that Andrea looked very tired, making her wonder why she could not sleep. "I haven't been able to sleep much lately… though I don't really think that anyone has with all of these murders…" Carrie could tell that his was not going to be all she had to say, "…Anastasia, she had got away, but then she was finished off by someone else. Who is safe Carrie, who?"

Carrie thought she was blowing the whole thing out of proportion as she usually did. "You have no reason to be killed…"

"Murdered…" Andrea corrected her, "…how do you know these two maniacs haven't been inside the opera house?"

Carrie really could not be bothered to answer. She could not tell if they had been inside the opera house. For all she knew they could be inside it right now, but the point was she was not going over the top about it like Andrea was and probably always would.

"Well...how do you know?" She could tell that the subject was not going to die down for a good few weeks at this rate.

"I don't, but I don't really care. I am still alive and that's all I really need to know at the moment…" Carrie thought that she had best think of something to follow this up with, "…you are losing sleep over nothing. If they are going to kill you then they will and worrying about it won't stop them. I still don't see why you are so worried…"

Andrea seemed to be coming to her senses, which was a big relief for Carrie. "Maybe you are right…I am being stupid. Goodnight Carrie…"

She left without another word. _That was a completely pointless conversation. I could have been looking over the letter in that time… I might have found something out… oh well._

-

"Monsieur Larogue I told you that if I had any more information on the subject then I would write to you. Is there really any point in you being here?" The figure asked Byron as he sat down in his chair.

"You do not seem to understand… I need it ready now, it cannot wait any longer." Byron was now getting very agitated with the situation at hand.

"If you are not patient then it will not be ready…"

"I don't care if it is completely ready or not, I just want to know if it is usable!" Byron shouted, cutting him off before he even had the chance to finish his sentence.

"Usable… certainly." The figure replied, not very happy at being shouted at.

"Good, then when…?" Byron was sure that he did not need to finish his question for him to get his point across.

"Tomorrow, if you are that desperate. I personally do not see what the bloody rush is for you to get it so quickly. 'No rush really' you said in one of our meetings, 'really, take your time'. Nice of you to change your mind on that in such a hurry…"

Byron tried to think of something to make himself look a bit more reasonable. "Well things happen, as I am sure you know, that change your mind."

"I try to stick to what I say. If I do change my mind in anything then I will have a very good reason for it…" He looked very angry, "…can I ask what it is that makes you want it so soon?"

"Well you can, as you just did…" Byron gave a small chuckle at his own joke, "…try having a wife who does not speak or do anything, and because she does not speak cannot tell you what is wrong."

The man seemed to understand, yet did not really show any sympathy. "Understood, sorry for being so forward…"

Byron thought that he did not sound sorry at all. "Fine, so tomorrow then?"

"Yes… but I am afraid that I will need another payment because of the change in the timetable…"

"Don't push it…" Byron said in a very menacing tone. He thought that this man had a lot of nerve to ask for more money after mucking him around so much, "... I have already paid more than I intended…"

"It was a joke monsieur…" The man said, cutting him off before he could get too angry at him.

"Do I look as though I am in the mood for jokes?" Byron never usually got this angry, but it seemed that all of the hassle with Meg not speaking for so long had changed him.

"Of course not, do forgive me…" Byron could not really find it in him to forgive him. He was in such a foul mood he did not have time for forgiveness.

"Whatever… no chance of it being tonight I suppose?" The man actually let out a sarcastic laugh at this question.

"I hope that is a joke…" He said, still laughing.

"Like I said do I look like I am in the mood for jokes?" Byron was getting more and more agitated by the second.

"No… but it is difficult enough as it is to get it done for tomorrow, but tonight you are really pushing your luck…" Byron hated having his own words used against him but did not say anything as he just wanted everything ready.

"Ok… tomorrow it is…" Byron turned to leave, but then heard the man call after him.

"Good luck with your wife…" He could have killed him but managed to contain himself.

-

_A son who is a murderer, a husband who does not seem to understand me at all, even though that could be because I can't say anything… what am I even doing out here? _Meg thought to herself. Come to think of it she had forgotten the reason why she had left her house to begin with.

She was in Paris walking along the lamp lit streets. She was told that Daroga had been murdered just outside the Opera House and so thought it would be best to go there to look for whatever it was she was looking for.

_What am I looking for? Am I actually looking for anything? _Meg was so confused that she thought that she must have been going mad. In what seemed like no time at all she was outside the Opera House but even when she got there she had no idea why she was there.

She looked up at the Populaire. It had been the heart of Paris, the pride of Paris, but that was before the new Eiffel Tower was built which was now the monument that was most well known in the city. It was easy to understand why however, Meg had never seen it in real life before, only in newspapers, now she saw it however she could appreciate just how amazing it was.

Meg decided that she would go and take an even closer look at it. Maybe that would clear her mind, and maybe even help her find her voice. _Why would looking at that help me speak? _Meg did not know why she thought that, but after all anything was worth a try.

Standing at the foot of the tower she was amazed by it. It was much taller than she thought it would be. Meg actually momentarily forgot all her troubles, and for the first time for a long while was happy. _You don't know that Michel is a murderer…people change… _A smile broke across Meg's face but this was wiped away very quickly by what she then saw.

A hooded figure was walking very quickly towards the tower. Meg followed out of curiosity. Whoever this person was went round the back of the tower, and for some strange reason was not noticed by anyone else. Everybody seemed to be too amazed by the tower itself to care what was going on at the foot of it.

Meg looked to see where they had gone, yet could see no one. _There must be some sort of entrance to…somewhere. _This was her immediate thought, if somebody vanished in a blink of an eye, look for a secret passage. This was how it was with Erik back at the Opera House.

There was an area completely out of sight from everywhere else which she managed to find. At a glance it looked completely normal, just a concrete circle with a few trees around it. When Meg examined it more closely however, she saw that the concrete block in the middle moved.

She had to use all of her strength to move it out of the way and reveal a passage beneath it. Meg then dropped down into the passage without any second thoughts. The area which she was now standing in was surprisingly light.

The tile above her slid itself back into position. Meg was now extremely frightened. She did not want to leave however. She wanted to see what it was that she had found.

She followed the passages around. It was just like a maze but she knew the trick with mazes, just keep your hand on the right wall and follow it round. Along the way she came across doors which had various things inscribed into them, such as 'Armoury' and 'Training' and a rather mysterious one with 'LL'.

She eventually came to the biggest doors she had seen so far. If she was going to go through any then it was going to be these. Meg pressed her ear to the stone door. She could hear voices coming from the other side but could not quite make out what they were saying.

Somebody was shouting on the other side of the doors, and now she could just about work out was it was.

"You stupid girl! How many times do we have to remind you to lock the door!"

"I don't see what harm I have…"

"Don't see what harm!?" It was a girl and a woman, Meg did not recognise the voices though. "Let me tell you what harm, how about the woman on the other side of that door listening in to everything we are saying!?"


	21. Glacier

Sorry for not uploading yesterday, i forgot, that is my best excuse, so sorry...anyway, enjoy chapter 21...

* * *

Chapter 21- Glacier

Meg panicked. Of all the things she was expecting to hear this was not one of them. Her legs felt like rubber, but she knew that if she stayed where she was she would surely be killed.

She tried to run. It felt like she was going three times as slow as she normally would. The adrenaline in her legs was such a handicap. Meg got to the end of the stone corridor, and then heard the doors that she had been listening at swing open.

Meg did not even stop to look over her shoulder. Her legs had regained some of their feeling but still she did not think that they were allowing her to run as fast as she normally could. A big problem was remembering where the way out was. She had been following the right wall on her way to the stone doors which she had ended up at, and had not really been paying attention to where it was she had been going.

There was a person standing at the end of the corridor Meg was currently in. She had to turn very quickly down a passage to her right, which turned out to lead to the exit. _I can think about just how lucky that was later._

Getting the exit open was a different matter however. It seemed to have locked itself in some way. Meg pushed it as hard as she could, knowing that in just a few seconds she would be killed…

Amazingly the tile moved out of the way. Meg pushed herself up out of the trap door leading back to the street and then moved it back into position as quickly as she could. She expected it to open again, yet whilst backing away from it it stayed precisely where it was.

There was nothing to gain by staying where she was. Meg would just have to run back home and lock all the doors to try and keep herself safe. She headed off as quickly as she could, getting a lot of strange looks from the people that she passed in the street.

Eventually Meg could not run any longer. She would have to just walk as quickly as she could. She kept glancing over her shoulder, expecting to see some hooded figure with a gun running towards her. It seemed however that she was relatively safe. The only people who were on the streets were normal civilians.

She could not let her guard down though. Meg had to get home as soon as she could. The dark night was making her mood even worse. She was already petrified at the thought of somebody coming up to her and killing her, but the thought of a figure waiting in the darkness for her was very unnerving.

_Byron will be able to keep me safe… he will be there when I get home. I know it. _Meg could only think positive thoughts to try and keep her mind off the unknown person who was coming after her.

-

"Stupid girl!" The woman shouted in her posh voice, having the urge to slap the girl in front of her.

"I'm sorry, I forgot…" Fiora replied, feeling increasingly stupid having let an outsider find their way into the base.

"How many times do I have to tell you to make sure that you engage the locking mechanism when you enter this base!?" She was in a towering rage. It was a very rare occasion that someone unwanted found their way inside headquarters.

"No point having a shout about it…what are we going to do about it?" Fiora shouted back, very annoyed that her 'tutor' was dealing with the situation in such an unprofessional manner.

"What the hell is going on…?" As if to make the woman even angrier Crimson Nightshade came to join the conversation.

"Fiora…" She began in a very frustrated tone of voice, "…has gone and let somebody in...she did not lock the door!"

To both Fiora and the woman's great surprised Crimson let out a small chuckle. "An easy mistake to make… so what are you going to do about it?"

The woman seemed to be trying to remember something. "When an intruder comes into the base…" She began, as though reciting something.

"…eliminate them immediately." Crimson finished, heading towards the doors.

"And you are going to be the one to do that are you!?" She called after him, then realised that he did not even know who it was who had found their way into the base.

"Glacier…do you really think that I would spoil the opportunity for you when it had been so long since you have had your share of blood?" His voice sounded so sinister it made the hairs on the back of Fiora's neck stand on end.

Glacier smiled. "Well of course not, after all I do know that you are such a considerate person after all." There was no note of sarcasm in her voice at all, which startled Crimson.

"Why thank you…" He left, not really wanting to continue the awkward conversation any longer.

Fiora looked confused. "How exactly are you going to find this woman?"

"Her name is Meg Larogue. I know exactly where she lives…" This sudden revelation of knowledge startled and confused Fiora even more. Countless questions formed in her mind, yet she felt it obvious to start with the most logical one to ask.

"How in god's name do you know that!?" She was extremely curious to know more about the situation at hand, after all she did not think that she knew anyone outside Draconosis.

"That does not matter right now. I have to go and shut her up before she squeals everything to her husband…" Glacier ran out of the main chamber very quickly. It was going to be a very easy task, yet it would require her to get there as quickly as possible before she said anything. If she did not get there in time then it would mean disaster for the whole organisation.

-

_God you can never have a conversation with that man without him trying to get a bit more money out of you. _Byron thought to himself. He was walking home quite slowly. He was in no real rush to get home.

He did not know why, but Byron felt very peaceful at that moment in time. The clear night sky was a beautiful sight, and Byron had the strangest feeling that things were going to be much better from this day forth.

Perhaps the reason that he was so happy was because the deal that he had signed so long ago was finally coming into place. He did not see why it had taken so long in the first place, the thought that it would have taken a few weeks at the very most, but he did not even consider the possibility that it would take months.

There was no point worrying about this now however, the whole thing was going to take place tomorrow. Byron thought that he would try his best to make it up with Meg when he got home, after all she was hopefully going to start talking again when everything was done.

He quickened his pace, wanting to get home and see Meg as soon as possible now. It would be brilliant to tell her the good news that he had to bring her. He wondered how she was going to take it, but then remembered that she was not talking and would probably just sit there staring blankly in front of her.

This would surely make her cheer up a bit though, and hopefully make her start talking again. If he were silent he knew that if he was given the sort of news he was about to give Meg he would definitely start talking again.

-

_Ok, lock all of the doors, bolt all of the windows…_ Meg thought desperately to herself, rushing around the house and making sure that every single entrance to it was secure.

She did not know what to expect. Meg wished that she had not been so nosey. She wished that she had not followed that mysterious figure into that place. What was done was done however, and nothing that she did now would be able to change it.

_But that does not stop me from trying…_ She thought, trying to think of anything that she may have missed. From what she could tell however the entire house was now as secure as it could possibly be.

Meg could not think of what to do now. The only thing that was left for her to do was to just sit and wait for something to happen. She was very disheartened when she got home and Byron was not there. She was counting on him to be there to protect her, yet obviously her faith was misplaced.

There was no point in brooding over this now though. He had said earlier that he was going for a walk but had not told her how long he was going to be. She could only assume that he was still on this walk and that nothing bad had happened to him.

_He will be ok…_ Meg then suddenly realised what it was she was thinking. Here she was, waiting for something to happen to her, and she was worrying about her husband when really there was nothing to worry about.

Meg just sat there waiting. She kept on going over anything she may have missed in her mind. There was nothing she could think of however, if everywhere was locked up then she would be safe…hopefully.

She then had a sudden thought. Meg opened her mouth and tried to make a sound. Unfortunately for her she was unsuccessful. She had not been able to speak for months now. Meg had not felt it necessary to let anyone know that she could not speak as opposed to not wanting to speak, after all even if she had written it down so that they knew what could they have done?

There had to be some way for her to tell people about everything she had seen without her leaving the house. Meg wracked her brains to try and think of a solution to this problem, but there was the much bigger problem of an unknown murderer coming to kill her which was causing her to think more slowly than usual.

Meg heard movement outside. She prayed that it was Byron, or even just a stray cat, but knowing her luck it would be somebody who was very unwelcome indeed. Meg ran to her and Byron's bedroom, still trying to think of some amazing way of telling people everything she had seen and where it was she had seen it.

It was only when she got into the bedroom that she realised that she had no idea why she had gone there. Meg looked around as though to see the answer written on the wall somewhere, but unfortunately yet not unpredictably it was not.

_Written on the wall…I must be going completely… _"Mad…" Meg was stunned at herself, at last she had found her voice again. It was weird to finally speak having not used her voice for a good few months.

"Written…" She said to herself, "…written, that's it!" Meg clapped he hands in triumph at thinking of a very good solution.

She ran over to the desk that was in the corner of the room, opened the drawer and pulled out paper and pen. Meg then sat down and thought of what she was going to write. The noises outside were not fading away, meaning that it could not be Byron. If it had been him he would have called Meg to come and open the door for him

Meg tried as best she could to convince herself that it was some sort of stray cat who had just got its leg caught or something… She then turned her mind back to the matter at hand, and began to write in a very untidy and nervous looking scrawl.

_To whoever reads this._

_I have found out the secret location of a group whose identity I do not know. I believe that whoever they are they are probably linked with the recent murders that have been taking place all over Paris._

_The location of this base is directly underneath the Eiffel Tower. There is a stone tile in the middle of a sort of… circle. All I had to do was push it out of the way, yet when I heard them speaking they said something about a locking mechanism, so it may not be that easy next time._

_I only hope that I am still here long enough to see these people brought to justice. I was seen when I made my way into their base, and I do not expect to be living much longer. If so then I have a few requests to be carried out when I am gone._

_I want my husband to move as far away from Paris as he possibly can, if I am killed then I dare say that he could be next. That is the only request I have…_

The noises that she had been hearing were growing louder and louder. Meg started to write even faster than she had been.

_Time is running out, whoever is coming after me will be here soon. There are many more than just two killers, a more accurate figure would probably be around twenty, there were so many when I was there…_

The noises grew louder still, and Meg could have sworn that she had just heard the front door crash open as though hit with a tremendous amount of force. She could not think of anything else she wanted to write, but knew that there was something important that she had forgot to say.

_I am almost certain that the name of the murderer in red is…_

The bedroom door burst open, but she did not stop writing, she had to get it all down on paper. Meg then felt a terrible pain in her right hand, which was the one she had been using to write with. She screamed in pain, her eyes were tight shut, she did not know what to expect when she opened them.

When Meg managed to open her eyes however, she saw that a knife had just pierced right through her hand. There was a hand holding onto the knife, Meg looked up at the person who was standing behind her, and saw a woman in a mask that covered just her eyes.

Meg could not make out who it was, the pain in her hand was far too terrible for her to concentrate on something like that. The woman was smiling a very cold smile indeed, causing Meg to shiver involuntary.

"What is the matter Meg, cold are we?" Meg thought that the posh voice sounded somewhat familiar but could not quite put a name to it.

The woman pulled out the knife she had stabbed Megs hand with. Meg expected her to then strike at her throat as she was hardly going to die from the wound that had been inflicted upon her. She was surprised however when the woman simply pulled out a handkerchief from her coat pocket and cleaned off the blood on the blade.

"You…" Meg began, tears streaming down her face from both the pain and the fear, "…you are not going to kill me?"

The woman laughed. "You are already dead…well, as good as dead anyway."

Meg could not understand what she meant, this statement after all did not make any sense. "What are you talking about?"

"You will probably be dead in around… ten minutes I would say." The woman then snatched the letter that Meg had written up off of the desk. "Oh you are a very caring mother aren't you? Ask for your husband to move but not your son…"

Meg knew exactly how this woman knew she had a son. "He is with you anyway, so why would he need to move, you would not kill him would you!?"

The woman simply blinked at this comment. "We have no reason to…"

This basically confirmed Megs suspicions, she had just more or less been told that her son was a member of this group, and that the reason for her loss of voice was not without reason after all.

Meg then remembered what had just been said. "How am I going to be dead in ten minutes?"

" 'Romeo, Romeo… where for art thou Romeo?'" She then let out a laugh at the confused expression that was on Megs face. "I thought that you went to see that production. I could have sworn I saw you there…"

Meg just continued to look puzzled, she could not stand people who spoke in riddles. "What the hell are you talking about?" She could only think that this woman was trying to put Meg's guard down even more than it already was, as though she needed to. Meg knew she was going to die anyway.

"Such a sad ending… she stabs herself when she realises he has killed himself with…"

"Poison…" Meg suddenly realised that there was obviously something pumping through her veins other then blood. Just then her head gave a twitch, though it was not voluntary.

"Precisely… I am just deciding whether or not I should stay here and watch you die…" Meg was so sure that she knew who owned that voice, and was determined to find out who and scream it at the top of her voice.

"Who are you?" She asked, knowing full well that she was not going to get an answer. The tears that had been on her face had subsided somewhat.

"I am Glacier." The woman replied simply.

"Funny name, was it winter when your mother gave birth to you then?" Meg actually managed to force a laugh, if she was going to die she was going to say what she liked before she did so.

"Ha, ha, ha…" Glacier was not amused, "…I think I will watch you die, it will be very satisfying…"

Meg then suddenly realised who it was. She could have kicked herself for not working it out quicker. "I never thought you would turn out like th…"

She could not breathe, it was as though some invisible force was constricting her throat. "What was that? Oh I am sorry, I forgot, you are poisoned…"

Glacier then let out a high cold laugh, and just stood there, watching…

-

**I learned to listen**

**In my dark, my heart heard music…**

_What next…? _Erik thought to himself, putting the pen he had been holding down on the side of the piano.

He could not think what could possibly go next. Perhaps he could do some sort of chorus, but what would the lyrics be, he had discovered over his eighteen years of composing that it was far easier to construct a tune around some lyrics.

He thought of what would fit his opera. This was one of the problems with doing the song a piece at a time, perhaps it would have been a much more sensible idea to have written all of the lyrics…

Erik did not like that way of working however, he knew that this was how any other composer would work, but he liked to be different. Christine came in through the door that led to the kitchen.

"It sounds great." She said to him, then realised that he could not have known that she was listening in.

"You were listening to me?" He asked, as though reading her mind.

"Yes, no problem with that is there?" Erik opened his mouth to reply, but Christine cut him off before he had the chance. "Don't you think it is a little late to be composing… what is the time anyway?"

Erik checked the clock on the wall. It was very late indeed. He thought that maybe it would be best for him to give it a rest for tonight.

"I suppose so…" There was a knock on the front door.

Christine and Erik both looked at each other. Neither of them could think who could possibly be visiting at this late hour. Christine was the one who went to answer the door.

As soon as she opened it Byron burst in through the door. "Christine… Erik…"

His voice was a barely more than a whisper. Christine could not think what would put Byron in such a fragile state. Erik entered the room and looked over at him, he could see that Byron had tears running down his face.

"Byron…" Erik started walking up to him very slowly, "…what has happened?"

Byron looked at them. "Come with me… please…" It was as though whatever it was that had happened he could not say it out loud.

They followed him out of the house. It was lucky that their houses were not too far from each other. When they walked through the door into his and Meg's house both Christine and Erik noticed that the lock had been broken.

He led them through into the master bedroom. When they entered the door they were met by a horrible sight…

"Meg!" Christine ran past both Erik and Byron, she could not believe what she was seeing. She grabbed Megs shoulders and began to shake her. "Meg… Meg!"

Erik could tell even at a distance that Meg was dead. His throat had gone very dry indeed, he could not think of anything to say, anything to do, or even what to think…

Byron collapsed, Erik could not blame him for doing so. He walked over to Christine and put a hand on her left shoulder. "Christine move away…"

"No!" She shouted back at him, still shaking Meg. "Wake up… Wake up!"

Erik tried to pull her away from Meg, but it was not working. "Christine please move away, there is nothing you can do to help her… she is dead!"

Christine began to cry very loudly. "She's not… she can't be!" She continued to shake Meg as though trying to wake her up from a very deep sleep as opposed to an eternal one.

Byron regained consciousness. "She's gone isn't she?"

Erik did not know what to say to either of them. He did not want to break down and show weakness in front of the two of them. He had to be strong for them if they would not be strong themselves.

"She…" Erik did not want to say the next word, "…is."

Byron completely broke down. Erik thought it would be best to go over and comfort him, but he had to stay with Christine. It was a problem which he did not know how to deal with.

Questions then formed in his mind. _Who did this? Why did they do this? What am I going to tell Antoinette? _This last thought made him feel very uncomfortable, after all she was Madame Giry's daughter.

Erik then noticed some letters on the desk. It looked as though they had all once been one letter, Erik started to read them.

From what he could make out Meg had known she was going to die, and because of that had made a last request. "I want my husband to move as far away from Paris as he possibly can…"

Byron looked up at him. "We were going to…" He mumbled, Erik still heard him however, "…it was all planned, I had bought the house, we were nearly ready to move. I just didn't tell her, I wanted it to be a surprise…what a surprise…"

This startled both Christine and Erik. Christine had stopped shaking Meg now. She seemed to have accepted that she was not going to wake up from the slumber that she was in.

Christine then noticed something on the floor. It was a torn piece of paper, so small that you would only be able to fit about three words on it maximum. She went over to pick it up, her tears nearly falling on it which would have blotched the ink.

_fel Tower. There I _Christine could not understand what this meant, yet she pocketed the piece of paper anyway. Too many thoughts were running through her mind for her to even begin to make sense of it.

Erik walked back into the room, which surprised Christine as she could not even remember him leaving. "I have sent for help… come on, let's go…"

Byron did not go with them, he seemed unable to move. Erik was nearly carrying Christine out of the house. It was as though she was not putting any effort into moving whatsoever. They left, police started arriving at that moment, yet were in too much of a hurry to get to the scene of the crime to even notice the two of them leaving…


	22. Men, Masks and Mystery

Hallu! I am back on the one a day routine, so i hope i am going to be liked for that. Enjoy chapter twenty two...

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Chapter 22- Men, Masks and Mystery

"_fel Tower. There i" _Christine had read these four words over and over, trying to make some sort of sense out of them. She had been doing this with no success at all however, they were what they were, meaningless words on a page.

It had been a couple of weeks since Meg had been killed and Christine now had the same sort of feeling that Erik must have had. After all, they had now both lost their best friends and both to the hands of Draconosis. It was true that Christine was not sure that it was Draconosis who had killed Meg but she had a pretty good idea that it was, after all who else would kill without a visibly valid reason for doing so?

Christine remembered only too well the night that she and Erik had gone to Byron's house to see Meg dead. One thing that Erik had pointed out afterwards was that the only wound that she had was a stab through her right hand. Neither of them could see how this would kill anyone. There was nowhere near enough blood to even suggest that she had bled to death. Unless of course the killer had cleaned it all up.

The detectives who were summoned to the scene of the crime shortly after the police had arrived also had no idea what the cause of death could be. They had thought of lots of different possibilities, such as suffocation and loss of blood. Suffocation did not look likely however as there were no markings around the neck to suggest that anyone had strangled her.

"She must have known something." Christine thought out loud. Erik was currently making them some hot drinks.

"Possibly…" Erik agreed and then thought of something else, "…then again it could have been someone with a grudge who wanted her killed. For all we know it was not Draconosis, it could have been anyone…"

"So just 'anyone' would murder and innocent person would they?" Christine asked, though not as if she wanted to cause an argument of some sort.

"Good point." Erik replied. He then passed Christine the cup of tea that he had made her and then picked up his own and took a sip. To Christine's great surprise he gave a small shiver.

"Cold tea?" She joked, wondering what on earth he was playing about at.

"No…" Erik began, taking another sip of the tea he was holding, "…but I never did understand how he managed to drink this foul stuff!"

Christine got up out of the chair that she had been sitting in and went over to see what he was on about. It turned out that Erik was drinking herbal tea, just like Daroga used to.

"Why are you drinking that?" She asked, at an utter loss to understand why he wanted to drink the 'foul stuff' as he called it.

"I need to keep healthy and in good condition. You never know when one of these maniacs may turn up on our doorstep…" Christine would have normally thought that he was being a little bit paranoid but, after what had happened to Meg, she could not blame him for being careful.

She pulled the note out of her pocket again and read it, even though she knew exactly what it said. Erik let out a sigh as though frustrated with her. He then put his tea down on the kitchen table and turned to her.

"Looking at this is not going to solve the problem…" He said, trying to take the note out of her hand with some difficulty. She did not seem to want it to leave her possession.

After about ten seconds of trying to hold on to it however, she finally decided to let it go. Erik then put his arms around her and looked her straight in the eyes. "I don't want you becoming obsessed with this like I did…"

"You still are…" Christine pointed out, Erik did not answer to this however, "…is this one of those 'do as I say, not as I do' things?"

Erik gave a very weak laugh at this. "If you want to think of it like that then yes, it is."

His facial expression then turned to one of sadness. Christine wondered what was wrong with him. This was a perfectly happy moment for them after all and she did not want it ruined.

"What's wrong?" She asked, not able to ignore the look on his face.

"I am just thinking of Antoinette, and what she was like when I told her…" This explained a lot. Erik had actually returned from telling Madame Giry of her daughter's death in a very fragile state. A few minutes after he returned, he completely broke down in Christine's arms.

There had only ever been two other occasions when Christine had seen Erik like this. The first was when his mother had come to the Opera Populaire to be one of the Patrons. The other more recent one when Daroga had been killed. Both times however Christine could remember thinking exactly the same thing.

_I hate seeing you like this… why can't we just be happy forever? _Christine knew that this was actually a lot to ask. How many people could say that they had gone through life without a trace of misery in it?

Erik was not crying this time though. He seemed to have recovered before he had got lost in his own sorrow. Christine remembered what he had told her about Antoinette's reaction, and the thing that stuck out in her mind the most was what she had said at the funeral. 'It is a curse for a mother to have to bury her own child'.

_A curse… _Christine thought to herself. She felt exactly the same way. She could not even begin to imagine what it would be like to have to be at either Jake or Carrie's funeral.

She pushed these horrible thoughts to the back of her mind. If she had it her way she would die peacefully in her sleep, and hopefully before either of her children. Christine's thoughts returned abruptly to the note and then she remembered that not that long ago Erik had taken it from her.

They heard something hit the front door. It was not a knock, more a sort of 'thud'. Erik went over to it and looked through the spy window. "There is no one there."

He opened the door. The cause of the noise was at his feet. It was a newspaper. Erik picked it up and looked at the front page. It had originally been the story about Meg, which was a story that Christine never wanted to read, but this time it was something completely different.

"Anything interesting?" She asked, having a feeling that there would be nothing brilliant as a front page today.

"Nothing…" He threw the paper back down on the table, along with the note which he had in his hand at the same time.

Christine went to pick it up, but then stopped herself. She did not want to become obsessed with this like Erik had, but knew that it would be very difficult not to as her best friend had been murdered. Christine picked up the tea which was on the table, took a sip of it and then realised that it was herbal.

Picking up the correct cup and turning to look at Erik, she saw that he had gone. _Back to the study no doubt _She picked up his tea and then walked through to the study. Sure enough she saw Erik poring over old newspapers and the letters that had been forged.

"So me looking at that note will not get me anywhere in finding out who they are. What good does it do looking over those old things?" Erik was not really listening to her. He had only taken a few words in like 'looking' and 'things'.

"What?" He asked, thinking that he must have sounded extremely rude. "Sorry, I was concentrating."

"Never mind, I forgive you…" Christine moved over and stood behind where he was sitting. She wrapped her arms round him from behind, "…I know what it is like now. We are in the same boat from that point of view…"

Erik put one of his hands on hers, momentarily distracted from his work. "Yes…I know there is no point dwelling over it, but it is impossible not to…"

Christine let go of him and made her way back through to the kitchen. She was surprised to see that four black cats were in there, standing next to each other in a perfectly straight line looking up at her expectantly.

She chuckled to herself. This was the first time she had seen her cats like that. It was obvious from the way that they were looking at her that they wanted feeding. Christine filled up their bowls with the usual food that they were given to eat. She then went on to fill up their milk bowls.

Christine then set the milk bottle down on the table as she put the bowls back in place. She went to pick up her cup which she had put on there earlier, but accidentally knocked over the bottle, which had no lid on.

The milk nearly went over the newspaper and note. Christine only just managed to move them out of the way quickly enough before they got soaked in it. She went to get a cloth to clear up the mess she had made on the table. Christine had only just about finished wiping it up when the headline that Erik said was 'nothing' caught her eye.

_Eiffel Tower becomes a world monument. _There was something about this that caught her eye. She seized the note and held it up to the headline, and then everything clicked into place.

She rushed upstairs and grabbed the long coat which she had not worn for nearly eighteen years. The last time she had worn this was when she had gone to pay a visit to a creepy old witch who ran an apothecary. Christine had a very strong feeling of déja vu. If this continued then it would mean her trip out would be a very worth while one indeed.

"I'm just heading out quickly…" She called through to the study.

"Be careful…" He called back, obviously not knowing what it was Christine was setting out to investigate.

She nearly sprinted into the centre of Paris as she left the house. It was not at all difficult to find where it was she was heading. The Eiffel Tower was so tall you could see where it was from practically anywhere in Paris.

Christine walked in the direction of the massive tower. As she got closer she noticed just how tall it was, and how beautiful it was. She did not want to let her mind wander from the task at hand. There was something here that she was looking for, though she had absolutely no idea what.

She was not very fond of heights, and therefore wanted to keep her search as low as possible, unless she found absolutely nothing at ground level in which case she would have no choice but to go up the massive tower. Christine took out the letter which she had stowed in her pocket before leaving.

"What the hell were you doing here Meg? 'There I…' What? There you what?" Christine muttered to herself, passers by just assumed that she was reading out loud to herself and were not really paying attention to what it was she was saying.

Christine took a slow walk around the tower, examining it from all sides. There was nothing out of the ordinary about it, it was what it was, a very tall metal tower which a lot of people were staring at in amazement. She had to walk round it several times before she was completely convinced that this was the case however, there must have been something subtle which you could overlook yet was actually very important.

There was nothing however. Christine really did not want to go up the tower. She thought that the feeling of vertigo would be extreme if she did, and passing out in front of a crowd of people with a sword on you was not a very sensible thing to do. She started to walk backwards away from the tower, thinking that she might be able to see something that she couldn't see from close up if she was further back.

She walked straight into something very solid at that moment however. Turning round she saw that it was a tree that she walked into and she massaged the back of her head where she had hit it.

Christine looked at the area which she was standing in. For some reason she thought that this was a very strange place, even though it looked perfectly normal. She could sense that there was something else here however. She was currently standing at the edge of a circle of tiles.

She examined all of the tiles on the floor, completely forgetting that she was meant to be focusing on the Eiffel Tower. They all looked exactly the same. Christine started from the outside of the circle and made her way into the middle. It was only when she got right to the very centre of the whole circle that she found something.

The tile in the middle moved, but not enough to actually move out of its current spot. She pushed at it as hard as she could to try and move it out of the way, certain that it would reveal something important if she did so. Christine thought that this was very like the time that she had been trying to get through the mirror which led to Erik's lair beneath the opera house, only this time she wanted to try and get beneath the Eiffel Tower.

_There must be some sort of way to open it… think, for the mirror you had to push down on the tile, there has to be something near this tile that moves it…_ Christine looked around to see if there was anything that stood out.

"Ah ha!" She cried as she spotted something that looked very promising. Before she could get to where she was heading however the tile started to slide out of position.

Christine knew that this could only really mean one thing. Somebody had opened it up from the other side, meaning that any second now somebody was going to come out of the hole which had been revealed.

She drew her sword. Fortunately for her the figure that came out was not facing in her direction and therefore was not aware of her presence. Instead of killing the man in black she hit him as hard as she could round the back of the head with the hilt of her sword.

Christine was going to see who it was, but did not have time as the tile had started to slide back into place. She jumped through the hole just in time, hurting her feet as she landed on the hard stone floor.

She looked around at her new surroundings. It was not dark as Christine had expected it to be but not light enough to see perfectly clearly. If Meg had managed to end up here then it was no wonder that she had been killed.

Making her way through the passages Christine tried memorising her route. She did not want to get lost in this place, that would surely lead to disaster. There was movement around the next corner. Christine did not have time to look round for a hiding place and so she burst through the door on her right and closed it, but not completely, she left a little gap so she could see out.

A woman in a white coat walked by the door that Christine had just gone through. She appeared to be in a hurry. Christine gave a sigh of relief and then turned round to examine the room that she was standing in.

The sight that met her eyes nearly made her pass out. She had not entered a room like she had expected… Christine was rooted to the spot, she looked down at the ground to see that there was mist covering it, and it was so thick that she could not even see her knees.

She felt something slither across her foot. Christine did not move for fear of what it was. When she was sure that it had passed, Christine bolted out of the door as fast as she could. There was nobody outside it, which was very lucky. She shut the door as quickly as she could, then examined what was inscribed on the door.

_LL…? _Christine thought to herself, wondering what this could mean. She did not want to linger, she had to find Meg's killer. That was her main priority at the moment, besides staying alive.

She felt it best to go in the direction that the woman in white had come from. Christine thought that it would be a good idea to examine what was written on the doors before going through them

Eventually she came across two large doors. She examined them closely before walking up to them. There was nothing written on them but there was a hole that looked just big enough to look through.

Christine thought it would be painfully obvious to look through the hole, and therefore did not just in case there was anybody doing the same on the other side. She pressed her ear up against the door, being careful not to step in front of the hole.

From what she could hear there were lots of people on the other side. Christine knew that it would be a very stupid idea to burst straight into a room full of people who she assumed to be assassins. She was only armed with a sword. Perhaps it would have been better if she had brought a gun instead.

Again she heard movement from around the nearby corner. Instead of bolting into the nearest room like she had done earlier, she drew her sword and put it to the neck of the man in the mask who had just appeared.

"If you say anything then I will cut your throat, understand?" The figure nodded, he was about the same height as Christine. She moved behind him, keeping the sword in place.

Now it would not be so bad if she went in this room, yet it would be better to get as much information out of this person before she did so. She thought she would be trying her luck if she tried to remove the mask, so she did not.

"Answer these questions quietly please…" She started, not knowing why she was being so polite, "… what it this place?"

"Headquarters…" He replied, sounding terrified at being threatened. Christine could imagine that these people were too used to being the ones who were doing the threatening.

"Headquarters?" Christine asked.

"To Draconsis…" He answered, not even daring to lie.

Christine tried to remain as focused as she possibly could. She did not have time to think up another question, the doors that they were standing outside opened, and now they were perfectly visible to everyone who was inside.

"If anybody tries anything then I will cut his throat, understand!?" Christine shouted at the room of people in front of her. Many of them had gone to draw their swords, but then hesitated as she said this.

The person who had opened the door walked backwards slightly. Christine took a few steps forward into the room, sword still at the figures throat. She looked around at everyone. The room she was now in was very large. Fortunately for her the doors did not close behind her, meaning that she could make a quick escape if needed.

_I bet that's what Meg thought… _Christine thought to herself, still trying to remain as focused as she possibly could.

"Drop your pistols…" Called a figure who Christine could not see. Whoever it was was hidden by a crowd of people. The voice was high and cold.

Everyone who had pulled out a gun dropped them to the floor at once. Christine could not help but wonder why this order had been given. The crowd parted, and a figure in red, with a pair of red eyes to match, stepped forward.

If Christine remembered correctly Erik had told her that he had shot this man in the head. She thought that this was a very mysterious thing if he was still alive after that. The man in red, who Christine assumed was Crimson Nightshade, looked quite amused at the situation.

"Can we help you miss?" He asked, sounding very polite, even thought Christine knew that it was false.

The man who Christine was holding hostage was shaking very violently. She would not be surprised if he passed out. "You killed my best friend Crimson…"

People started muttering when they heard the word Crimson. Christine could just about pick out the question 'How does she know who he is' from the crowd.

"Did I?" He asked, putting on an expression of mock thought. "Oh…you mean Meg Larogue?"

Christine gave a small nod, still concentrating on her surroundings so as not to be caught off guard. "That was me…" Came a voice to Christine's right.

She looked round and saw that it was the woman in white who she had seen earlier. Christine really did wish that she had a pistol now so that she could shoot this woman where she stood.

"She did not put up much of a fight, poor girl, too curious for her own good, and if I remember correctly she cannot keep things to herself for very long…" Christine was going to say how there was no need to kill her as she was not speaking anyway, but did not.

"Don't worry Miss Daae. We are not going to kill you…" Crimson said, reading the scared expression that had crept onto Christine's face.

Something then struck Christine from what he had just said. "How do you know my name!?"

Crimson could have kicked himself. He only then realised that she had not told them who she was. Now he was in a bit of trouble, but recovered almost instantly. "The famous soprano from the Populaire, who doesn't know you?"

Christine could sort of see his point. It was one of those times when she wished that she did not have as much fame as she did. "That still does not change the fact that you robbed me of my best friend…"

"We cannot risk people finding out who we are…" The woman in the white coat said.

"I don't think she was talking to you Glacier!" Crimson snapped at her.

_Ah so her name is Glacier, now I am getting results… _Christine thought to herself, still focusing on the situation.

"So why are you going to let me live?" Christine asked, thinking that this might cause them to kill her if anything, which was not what she wanted.

"There are other ways to silence people without killing them… or injuring them for that matter…" Crimson said. This caused Christine to get very angry.

"Then why kill Meg!?" She screamed at Glacier.

"Because I did not like her anyway… and it has been so long since I have had my share of blood…" Her posh accent made her sound even more sinister than she looked.

"We are very confident in our other methods as well however…" Crimson began, and then to Christine's great surprise he took off his mask, "…so confident I know that you will not remember who I am."

Christine lost her focus, and in the split second in which she had done so somebody had ran up behind her, knocked the sword out of her hand and poured a vile liquid down her throat.

Her legs felt like rubber. Everything started to go black as she collapsed on the floor, motionless and helpless. "Foolish girl…" Said a voice, and that was the last thing Christine heard.


	23. The Job to Top All Jobs

As promised I am back to one a day now, so everyon can enjoy chaptr twenty three...

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Chapter 23- The Job to top All Jobs

Christine's eyes fluttered open. She was in bed, having a warm flannel pressed against her forehead. She looked up to see Erik smiling warmly down at her, a twinkle in his eye.

"Welcome back…" He whispered to her. Christine did not have any idea what he was on about. Her eyes were still adjusting to the light in the room.

"What happened?" She asked stupidly, looking up at him blankly.

"Well…" Began Erik, taking the flannel away from her forehead and putting it on the bedside table, "…I was rather hoping that you were going to be able to tell us that…"

Christine wondered what he meant by 'us'. Was he referring to him and her? Looking around the room she saw that they were not alone. Sitting in a chair which was in the corner of the room was none other than Carrie.

"You gave us quite a scare…" She said, getting up and walking over to stand next to Erik.

Christine could not work out what either of them was talking about. Perhaps she had passed out and got a concussion or something like that. Her brain felt like a giant wad of cotton wool. She just could not concentrate properly.

"A scare…?" She asked, feeling more and more stupid by the second, "…how did I give you a scare?"

Erik and Carrie looked at each other. They seemed to be trying to communicate by thought who was going to explain exactly what had happened to her. In the end it was Carrie who decided to speak up.

"Well… I had some free time from rehearsals and things so I decided to take a little trip into the city…" She began, Erik went over to the seat which Carrie had been sitting in and occupied it himself, "…I thought that it would be a nice idea to go and have a look at the Eiffel Tower as I have not seen it before…"

Christine was trying to take everything that she was saying in, but it was very hard work. Carrie seemed to notice this, so she did not speak for a few seconds to let Christine understand what she was being told.

"So I was going to go up it when I heard a lot of commotion…" She was now speaking quite slowly so that she did not have to pause as often, "…I went over to see what it was. There was a crowd of people gathered around you, everybody thought you were dead…"

Christine could not work out why on earth she would have gone to the Eiffel Tower in the first place. Perhaps she had been having something to drink, that would explain why it was she could not remember anything.

"So I discovered that you were unconscious and managed to bring you back here." She informed her.

Christine went over everything that she had said. It was like a dream that she was trying desperately to remember yet couldn't. Something was telling her that whatever it was she could not remember it was probably much more important than a dream.

"I can't tell what has happened to you…" Erik began, trying to think of something else to say, "…if only Nadir were still alive. This is more his sort of thing than mine."

She felt sad for him, yet was still desperately trying to work out what it was that had happened to her. In the end she decided that she must have just got drunk or something. This was the only explanation for her lack of memory.

"Can you not remember anything…anything at all?" Erik asked, hoping that in doing so her thoughts would suddenly return to her.

"Ummm…" She began, thinking so hard she thought her head might explode, "…cold…I remember it was cold."

_Oh very useful… _Erik thought to himself. _Can you not remember anything besides the weather?_

"You told me that you were going out somewhere…" He told her, thinking that this might refresh her memory a little bit, "…can you remember where it was you were going?"

Christine thought for a moment. "I remember telling you that but I don't remember where I was going."

Her brain was starting to feel a little more normal again. She was so annoyed with herself for not being able to be a bit more helpful towards the two of them. Carrie spoke up.

"Some people were saying that they saw you around there earlier that night… can you not remember what you were doing?" She asked, thinking that it would be a miracle if she could.

"I don't think so…" She replied, "…I think I may have just been looking at the Tower."

Neither Erik nor Carrie could work out how looking at a tower would cause somebody to faint and have amnesia. Erik then remembered that she had a fear of heights, though he was sure that she would not have gone up the tower if she did so.

"I don't think she is going to remember…" Erik said to Carrie. Christine agreed with him. She did not know why she could not remember anything. She just…couldn't.

"I'm sorry…" Christine apologised, making Erik feel a little bit guilty for what he had just said.

"Chances are it is not your fault…" He said to her, trying to make up for speaking as though she was not there, "…we just need to try and work out what the cause of all this was."

Both Carrie and Christine agreed with him but neither of them could see how they were going to go about doing this. Christine after all would have been the only one who knew anything and yet since she did not how could anybody else know?

"You should get some rest…" Carrie said and then she turned and left through the open door.

Erik got up out of the chair and went over to her. "It is not your fault. I know you would tell us if you could remember…"

He planted a kiss on her forehead. Christine was glad that he did not think that she was a liar. She honestly did not know what was going on. She only knew how she came to be back home because Carrie had told her. If it was not for her she would have been completely lost.

-

"Have you completely lost all sense of judgement?" Wraith asked Crimson, very angrily.

"No…" Crimson then put on an expression of mock thought, "…I don't think I have…why do you ask?"

Wraith could have killed him because of his sarcasm. He did not seem to remember that he, Wraith, had been in Draconosis a lot longer than Crimson had. He was sure that this would have earned him a little more respect from the boss and his fellow members. The only fellow member that seemed to respect and love him however, was Glacier.

"Why did you let her live?" Wraith saw no logic in leaving the stupid woman alive, especially one who was closely linked with Meg Larogue.

"Because I was feeling generous…" Crimson replied, giving a smirk behind his mask, "…no point in killing somebody if there is another way of helping them forget. Is there?"

Wraith did not answer. If it had been his decision then he would have killed her. Crimson could not stand this sort of attitude. He did not mind killing people but if it could be avoided then he would avoid it.

"The boss is a fool for leaving you in charge…" Wraith spat bitterly at Crimson, "…you should not let it go to your head, though I dare say that it already has." Crimson was going to say something, but Wraith had not finished. "I should tell you now that even though the others may answer to you I certainly will not…"

"That is your decision…" Crimson said, not really wanting to continue this pointless argument.

It was Wraith's fault after all that he was now second in command as opposed to first as he had been. If it were not for the stupid mistake that he had made so long ago with Anastasia Levian then he would still be the leader, and also still have the respect that he so desperately wanted.

"…but it seems that my orders are much more beneficial than yours…who knows, sparing Miss Daae's life may just be the turning point in this game…" Crimson said.

Wraith was taken aback by what he had said. "Game?"

Crimson let out a small chuckle. "Why yes, a game of chess. White versus black, we struck first so we are white…"

"What the hell are you going on about?" Wraith had never heard Crimson talk in riddles before, and he did not particularly like it as he was making no sense at all.

"Never mind…" Crimson said. Anyone normal would have felt pretty stupid for saying something so out of the ordinary but Crimson did not seem to care in the slightest. This made the man an even bigger mystery, even to the people who already knew who he was.

Wraith thought that it would be best to leave now. He had grown very tired of the conversation that they had been having. He was just about to leave through the main doors to the chamber when Crimson called after him.

"Oh, I almost forgot…" He began, as though he had just remembered something of the utmost importance, "…the boss wants to see us in an hour. He said it was urgent, and that we were to be the first to know…"

Wraith turned round to face him. It was only then that he realised that there was nobody else in the room with them. "The first to know what?"

"No idea…" They seemed to forget their conflict between each other momentarily, "…but whatever it is he seemed to only want to tell us about it, must be some important job that he wants the two of us to do."

"Must be." Agreed Wraith, who had completely forgotten that he was going to leave about twenty seconds ago. "But I don't see why he would need both of us to do one job. Either one of us on our own is enough to take care of anything…"

"If it is the boss's personal operation then I rather doubt that is true…" Wraith could not believe his ears. For once Crimson actually doubted his own abilities to assassinate. If that was indeed what the job would require.

Wraith left after this. What he had just been told was more than enough to keep him thinking for the next hour, which was when he would find out what it was. _A job that he only trusts the two of us to do… what on earth could that be? _He knew that this was going to be playing on his mind like nothing ever had before.

He was actually so lost in his own thoughts that he ran headlong into Glacier. "My god!" She cried, due to nearly being knocked down by him. "What is the rush for?"

Wraith knew that it would be a very unwise move to tell her what it was. He knew that the boss could hear just about anything and everything that was said in the lair and so he did not want to risk telling her for fear that he would be overheard doing so.

"It is nothing really…" He replied, knowing full well that she would not believe him at all, "…I just had an argument with Crimson and I am not in the best of moods at the moment."

Glacier seemed to understand. Wraith was not completely lying when he told her this, after all he had had an argument with Crimson but this was not what was on his mind, and also was not the reason he had nearly sent her flying.

"Fair enough. Well I cannot stay and chat for long. Fiora said she wanted to see me about something and so I will have to go and find her…" She looked as though she was about to leave, "…I do not suppose you have seen her anywhere have you?"

Wraith thought for a moment. Come to think of it he had seen her around somewhere. "Last time I saw her was at the place you really would not like to ever be again."

Glacier shivered, she knew exactly where he was referring to. They turned and headed off in their separate ways, leaving the stone corridors empty and silent.

-

_Ok… don't panic, just tell him and he will not mind. I mean you did tell him a while back, I am sure he will not have a go at me for it. Besides I have much more important things to deal with. _Jake thought to himself, while yet again looking over some of the most boring papers he had even seen in his entire life.

"Umm…" He began, more to announce that he was about to say something rather than to actually give some interesting information.

"Yes Jacob?" His boss asked, not even looking over at him as he too was engrossed in an even bigger stack of boring papers.

"Well…" The last time he had gone to tell his boss what he was about to tell him his boss had blown a fuse, "…you know a while back I talked about my, err…"

His boss seemed to be getting very annoyed with him. "If you have got something to tell me then can you please get on with it, we have both got a lot of work to be getting along with."

Jake decided that he would just have to say the whole thing in one. "A while back I talked about my resignation, and you would not let me quit for another few months. Well another few months have come on gone so now I would please like to hand in my resignation."

His boss looked as though he was going to shout at him. Jake was surprised however, it turned out that he was just trying to find patience, and by doing so had to close his eyes so as not to lose his rag with him.

For a few minutes neither of them said anything. Jake wondered what his boss was thinking, but then thought that it might be something along the lines of 'If you even so much as mention the word resignation to me again then I am going to cut your head off'.

Jake smiled at this thought. It was very lucky that his boss had his eyes shut at that moment, otherwise he was very sure that he actually would have shouted at him. At last he seemed ready to speak, which was a great relief as the tension was nearly killing Jake.

"Why all of a sudden do you want to quit this job? Are you not happy with it?" Jake did not really know how to answer this one.

He thought that the truth would be the best thing to say in response. "Well, this job really isn't as exciting as I would have hoped it to be. I really would prefer to have a job which was more hands on."

Ok, so Jake had not told the truth completely, but this was half true, which was better than a complete and utter lie. He really did not know how his boss was going to react to this statement, maybe he was going to say some tacky line like 'You can't quit. I am going to fire you!' Again Jake smiled, and again he was lucky that his boss had his eyes shut when he did so.

"Ok, so you find this job boring in other words?" Jake nodded. He was not going to deny that he would rather work in a library than carry on this job for one second longer. "Ok, if that it how you feel then there is really nothing else to be said is there?"

"No sir…" Jake turned to leave, he did not keep anything that he really wanted at his desk, so there was no need to 'clean it out' as you would usually have to with any other job, "…good luck with this business."

"Thank you, now you may leave." Jake did not really hesitate to do so.

He did not feel guilty in quitting like he thought he would. Perhaps he was just so eager to get rid of this low pay boring and pointless job he really did not have enough time for guilt. Jake shrugged off this thought, the fact of the matter was he had quit, which he had wanted to do for quite a while, nearly ever since he had started his job.

Jake made his way back to his home. He thought that now he had a lot more spare time he would go back to Paris for a visit. Maybe he would be able to go and see the new Eiffel Tower which had been built. His boss had told him that he had seen it, and that it was a spectacular sight.

He opened the front door and walked in through it. Closing the door behind him he decided that it would be a good idea to get a good night's sleep. Jake knew that getting rid of this job would make no real difference to his life, only that it would be more interesting than that awful job.

One thing that was a bit of a problem for him was the matter of what he was going to tell his parents if he did go back for a visit. Perhaps he would now tell them what it was he was doing in Calais, he could see no harm in doing this.

Jake then went to settle in for sleep. He could remember what his last thought was before settling off into a peaceful slumber.

-

"Wraith is late…" Began the figure, who was not facing in Crimson's direction.

"He is probably with Glacier…" Crimson replied, thinking just how unprofessional Wraith was being. He was sure that when he told him that the boss wanted to see them in person he would have at least be punctual, "…you know what those two are like when together. They seem to forget where the time goes."

The figure who was facing the wall gave a small chuckle at this remark. It was common knowledge among all members of Draconosis that Wraith and Glacier were together.

"Hence why I put you in command. Relationships just get in the way of the work which really matters…" Crimson privately agreed with him, yet thought that it were probably possible to have a relationship and still focus on work as well.

The huge doors from the main chamber opened, and Wraith walked in through them. He immediately went over to stand next to Crimson. He could tell that he was going to be in trouble for being late.

"Sorry…" He began, hoping that he would be forgiven, "…lost track of the time."

"We guessed." Crimson said to him, the boss still did not turn round.

It was a very rare occasion for any of the members to get to talk to the boss personally. He was a ventriloquist, meaning that he could make his voice sound like it was coming from somewhere far away from where he was standing. This made the need to talk face to face very unnecessary.

The only person who ever got to talk to the boss in person usually was first in command. At the moment this was Crimson, but it had formerly been Wraith, though he had only ever spoken to the boss in person once during his reign as first in command.

"I suppose gentlemen you are wondering why it is I have asked the two of you to come and see me…" This was not a question, it was a statement.

Neither of them answered, they both knew that this was a rhetorical question. They both stood exactly where they were, not moving an inch, waiting to hear the reason that they had been summoned like this.

"…I am sure you have guessed that it is a job… a job to top all jobs…" This last statement was enough to kindle the flame of curiosity in anyone.

Wraith and Crimson were desperately trying to think of what the 'job to top all jobs' was. They knew better than to ask however, as they were certain that they were about to be told.

The boss turned to face them. His hood was casting a shadow over his presumably masked face. He threw a pile of pictures down in front of them, which turned out to be sketches.

"This man is worth one hell of a bounty…" He said. Crimson picked up the pictures and went through them. Wraith was looking over his shoulder.

"How much?" They both asked in unison.

"Two hundred thousand francs each, making a total of four hundred thousand…" Wraith's eyes sparkled out the amount of money they were being told.

"Why is it so much?" He asked, wondering what on earth could make this person worth so much money.

"It seems that he has collected quite a reputation among police…" The boss replied, glad that they were taking this with the seriousness that it required.

"And…" Began Wraith, "…who exactly…"

"Sir this is mad!" Crimson shouted, throwing down the sketches at the boss's feet. "I know that two of us is one more than usual on any other job, but it would take at least five to guarantee success, possibly four, three is pushing it, two is near impossible and one is suicide!"

Wraith did not know who this person was, yet thought that Crimson was probably blowing the whole thing out of proportion.

"I have more faith in you than it seems you do in yourself…" The boss replied, staying perfectly calm.

"Why do you want him killed all of a sudden anyway!?" Crimson could not see any logic in this. It was like picking a random person off the street of Paris and cutting their throat.

"The profit is bigger than god knows how many jobs put together. I left out the one hundred thousand francs I am getting out of this, that brings our new total gentlemen to half a million francs!" Wraith's eyes grew even brighter at these words.

"Sir…" Began Crimson, trying to remain as calm as he possibly could, "…sending in the two of us is only doubling the small chances that we stand against this man. He is capable of more than even you probably know. He will not hesitate to kill us on sight…"

"Hence why you are going to kill him first…" The boss stated. Crimson thought that this sounded a bit obvious.

"He nearly killed Wraith, and he was about an inch away from killing me! If that shot had been just a little to the right I would not be standing here right now…" Wraith was piecing everything together as it was being said.

"But you are still here, and what does that tell you?" Crimson did not even consider answering. He knew that he was probably going to be told anyway. "That it was fate…no… destiny for you to be here to do this job. Besides, this man has meddled with us for long enough…"

"If I may ask a simple question…" Interjected Wraith, "…who exactly is this man, do we have a name?" It would be very helpful for him to know who it was that they were meant to be assassinating.

"No name…" Began the boss, a little annoyed as this was the first person who they did not have a name for, "…but we do have an alias. He goes by the name of 'The Phantom of the Opera.'"


	24. Judgement

I am in a good mood, so I am going to upload the chapter nice and early today. I hope you enjoy it, so get on and read it, chapter twenty four...

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Chapter 24- Judgement

"I swear we are going to get to the bottom of this…" Erik said to Christine while pacing back and forth across the study floor, "…we just need to think logically, then the answer will come."

Christine was not completely sure that this was going to be a true statement. She was glad however that Erik was treating the situation with optimism rather than pessimism.

"Ok, let's look at everything that happened before I wound up at the Eiffel Tower." Christine said, thinking that it would be best to start before the event that they were trying to decipher the mystery of.

"Meg had been killed." Erik pointed out, thinking that this would have been the most obvious place to start.

"So maybe I went there to try and cheer myself up?" Christine thought out loud. Erik shook his head. He found this very unlikely.

He looked as though he was trying to remember something. "You were obsessed with some sort of note that you had found… where is that anyway?"

Erik had not actually seen the note since before Christine had gone, and that was at least a week ago. Christine remembered that there was a note, yet still her memory was a little fuzzy and so she could not remember exactly what was written on it.

"Perhaps…" Christine began, again thinking out loud, "…perhaps if we do find this note then it will explain a lot of things."

Erik nodded his head. He could have kicked himself for not being able to remember what it said. All that he could remember was that it made no sense, and that some of the words that were written on it were not actually real words.

"Ok, so you left the house…" Began Erik, going over everything that he knew had definitely happened, "…we can then only assume that you went into Paris to see the Eiffel Tower."

Christine could see no other explanation for her leaving the house. "But why would I want to go and see it on my own. I would want to go and see it with you unless I had a good reason to want to go alone."

"I know!" Erik boomed triumphantly. "It all makes sense when you put it together, you would have wanted to go to the Eiffel Tower alone because of…"

There was a knock at the door. This distracted Erik, causing him to forget what it was he was about to say. Christine was the one who went to answer it. She made sure that she checked who was outside by using the spy window before opening the door.

It turned out to be Jake. "Jake?" Christine asked when she had opened the door, and then she flung her arms around him. "What are you doing here?"

Jake walked in through the open door, and Christine closed it behind him. He walked through into the study where Erik was. His reaction was the same as Christine's, only he did not give him a hug for some strange reason.

"Nice to be back on happier terms…" He said, the last time he had been back was for Meg's funeral, which happened to be a very depressing occasion indeed. If he had had it his way then he would not have gone, but he had known her since he was a small child and so he thought it the decent thing to do.

"But what are you doing here?" Erik asked, wondering why on earth he would want to come back and visit at such a random time. "Shouldn't you be working?"

"Ah…" Began Jake, knowing that the subject was going to be unavoidable, "…yes, well there is something I have got to tell you about that."

Erik gave a sarcastic laugh. "What, like what it is at last?"

Christine could sense an argument coming on here. She shot Erik a look to try and get him to calm down before he got really angry, and he seemed to get the hint.

"I have quit." Jake replied simply.

Erik had not been expecting this, yet Christine was not really very surprised. For some strange reason she did not actually think that he was going to stay with his job for very long, even though she did not have any idea what it was.

"Oh… I see. Does that mean that we at last get to find out what it is? I mean was?" Erik asked, feeling quite stupid at having to correct himself over such a silly little thing.

"I suppose it would not hurt to tell you…" Jake replied, "…if you really must know… I was in the sales business."

Erik had to fight back the urge to laugh. If he had been expecting anything it was not that. "Why on earth did you just not tell us to begin with?"

Jake felt a little bit embarrassed at this question, but thought it would only be fair to answer him. "Well because I thought you would be ashamed of me. I mean you did a surprise dinner just because I got the new job, yet it really was nothing spectacular anyway."

Erik understood. He walked up to Jake and embraced him just like a father normally would. It was such a nice feeling to finally know what he had been keeping from him for so long, and an even nicer feeling to know that it was nothing dark or dangerous.

"So…" Erik began, releasing him, "…that means you are unemployed?"

Jake nodded. Erik thought this was a bit of a stupid question to ask, if somebody had just quit their job then they were hardly still going to still be in employment were they?

"Yes. I am going to have to start looking for a new job soon. Oh and…" He did not know how he was going to tell them this next bit of information, "…I have sort of rented out my house so I am still getting some money, so would it be alright if I stayed here until I find a new job?"

Erik smiled. Jake took this as a yes. "That would explain the suitcase I see you left out on the door step."

They all laughed. Jake went and picked up the suitcase, then went to his former bedroom and began to unpack. He felt much more at home here than he did in the actual house that he owned.

-

"I have a theory, nothing more…" Said a detective to all of his colleagues who were standing in the room.

"…that being?" One of them asked, not really thinking that there was any possible solution to the case that they had been put on.

"All of these deaths… they have to be connected in some sort of way. If we can find the connection then maybe we can find out who did it." This theory was a rather obvious one to point out.

"I don't think they are…" Another detective chirped in, "…I think that they all have individual purposes, and in order to find out who did it we first need to find out what these purposes are."

All of the others agreed with this second opinion. Both of these theories had the potential to be true, but really nobody had any idea why these deaths had been taking place.

"I know the real meaning behind the whole thing, and I know who has done it…" The detective that spoke this time was the same one who had 'interviewed' Christine, if you can call it an interview, it had been more like a chat.

"Oh yes, because an ancient army of assassins has really risen from the ashes to come and wipe out Paris!" This was the head detective speaking. "Have you ever considered dear boy, that if 'Draconosis' really had returned then half of Paris would be dead by now?"

He nodded his head. This startled everyone who was present in the room. "Listen to my theory. My theory is that they are much more careful in what they do, if they killed too many people then it would have drawn too much suspicion…" He thought that they had already drawn enough suspicion to themselves anyway, but carried on, "…and their motive is the same as it was all those years ago, profit."

People started muttering to each other. The ones who thought that there might be even the slightest bit of truth in this theory were not speaking up, they were all too afraid of losing their jobs if they opposed the head detective.

"I think you are losing your nerve. There is absolutely no evidence to suggest that they are back, except for one opinion of a person who has never even heard of them before, meaning that…"

"Exactly! If she has not even heard of them before then would she really come and tell me what it was that she heard?" This caused the muttering to flare up again. The head detective looked at though he was trying to fight back his rage.

"Ok… so maybe she may have known something. Perhaps she just came to you because she thought it amusing to give you a false idea!" It was clear that this was not the sort of man you wanted to get into an argument with.

"Oh do listen to what it is you are saying! You are being blinded by the idea that the solution is not as bizarre as that, but you have to consider that the solution is not always rational or simple like you think it is…" He was not sure what sort of a reaction he was going to get from this and so he waited for an answer.

Neither of them spoke however. The whole room seemed to be keeping as silent as possible, as if watching to see who was going to speak first. None of the other detectives would ever have the nerve to speak up to their boss like that.

"Well, if you are so simple minded that you will not think 'outside the box' then this case is going nowhere…" The brave detective began, "…when you finally start to use some sort of imagination though please do contact me and then I may consider rejoining this case!"

He then stormed from the room without another word to anyone. Everybody was still silent. None of them knew what their boss was going to say. He was not a very easy person to read after all. There was silence for a few minutes and then at last the head detective seemed to find words.

"Well…" He began, feeling somewhat stupid for not doing something more to stop him from going, "…shall we talk about some feasible ideas then?"

People gave a small laugh at his joke. It was clear to everybody except the boss that nobody was really laughing. Most, if not all of them, agreed with their colleague's theory.

"You said that there had to be a reason behind every death?" He asked to the one who had put forward this point of view.

"Yes, the only one that is remotely obvious though is Anastasia Levian. She had been having an affair and her husband found out about it. There was an attempt on her life by one of 'The Two' and then she was finished off when this person failed."

This was another thing that annoyed the boss. He could not stand it when people went on about the two, since nobody had seen their faces they could have been totally different people every time. He had told them about this before, but nobody really thought that it was true.

"Right, who does that leave us with? Jacques Lemont, Samuel Frelques, Nadir Khan and Meg Larogue…" Everyone could tell that this was going to be a very long meeting indeed, "…if we can find out the reason for each of their deaths then maybe we will be one step closer to finding the real and existing killer or killers…"

-

"Glacier!" Crimson called over to her, he then walked over to her so that he did not have to shout across the room, "…how are we doing for a location?"

Glacier looked as though she was ready to cry. "Nothing, it is as if this man does not exist. He truly is becoming more like a Phantom than he already is."

Wraith entered the chamber. "Still nothing, I have searched through countless archives and all I have been getting is the murders he has committed."

They all stood there thinking their own thoughts. None of them had yet come across a task so challenging. It was lucky that Crimson had managed to convince the boss to let more people help in finding this man's whereabouts, otherwise they would be completely lost.

"I haven't found anything…" A different woman said, throwing down a load of papers that she had been looking through on the table.

"None of us have Crystal…" Glacier informed her. Crystal was one of the members that were going to take a part in the big operation the boss had planned, but then it had been aborted.

"God what is the boss thinking giving us an impossible task like this!?" Crimson shouted, not really caring whether or not the boss heard him. "He knows that we have not got a hope in hell's chance of finding this man. I mean we do not even know what his real name is for God's sake!"

"I am working on that…" Wraith said. He had not got any closer to finding out what his name was however than he was when they were first given this job, "…I don't exactly know where to look for answers at the moment though…"

"That is my point exactly!" Crimson boomed, getting very agitated with the job at hand, "None of us even know where to begin, so how are we meant to know where to look for answers?"

"Perhaps it would be better to treat this with optimism…" Wraith said.

"You are only interested in the money. Well I have news for you on the money and that is you aren't going to get any. It is not possible to find this man." Crimson thought that it was rather ironic for Wraith to want the money so badly. After all it had been him that had told Crimson that greed is a horrible thing.

He did not know what he was going to do. Half of him wanted to carry on trying to find this man, yet the other half wanted to just tell them to give up, obviously he could not do this because the boss would surely kill him.

There was nothing else for it. He would just have to leave them all to it. He did not know where he was going to go, but he did not much care. All Crimson wanted to do was to think the whole thing over rationally, otherwise they would not get anywhere in finding their target.

_Wraith has changed…_ He thought to himself. This was a very true thing to think. Wraith did not used to care about the money that he was being paid to do a job, but now that it was such a high figure he seemed to be extremely interested indeed.

Crimson did not know why, but he decided that he would go to the armoury. Perhaps being surrounded by loads of different types of weapons would inspire him to want to work harder towards finding the Phantom.

He knew the layout of the whole base like the back of his hand and so it did not take him long to get to the armoury. Crimson then opened the door and went in. At the moment he was unarmed. He did not see the need to carry a weapon on him at all times.

Crimson walked over to the far side of the room, where on the wall were many different types of blades. His favourite one to use, however, was a Japanese model called a Katana.

He took one down from the wall and placed it in his belt. Then he began to pace the length of the large room, thinking as he did so. _There must be someone in this city who knows who 'The Phantom' really is, but how are we supposed to be able to tell who that is? Perhaps if I made a little trip back to the Populaire and questioned those two clueless managers…_

This seemed like the best course of action to take. He was not sure when he was going to carry out this new plan however, he had enough time to go and do it whenever he wanted. _I will need some more of that clever forgetfulness potion that we used on Christine…_

Crimson then went over to the door as he had decided that he had had enough time to think things through, even though he had only been there for a few minutes. Before he had chance to reach out and push the doors open however, somebody opened them from the other side.

Wraith entered the armoury. This was not really the sort of person Crimson wanted to see at the moment, they were on better terms than they had been previously.

"Are you going somewhere?" He asked, noticing the blade that Crimson had attached to his belt.

"As a matter of fact I am…" Crimson replied and then went to leave. Wraith was not finished with him though.

"Please do tell where…" He asked, "…after all we are both doing this job together aren't we?"

Crimson glared at him, he could not stand it when Wraith just babbled on to keep him from doing the things which really mattered.

"Sorry but I really have to get going…" Crimson informed him, "…unlike you I have a good idea of where to start looking."

"Where would that be?" Wraith asked, sounding interested.

"The opera house you idiot. If I can question the managers then I am sure they will tell me everything they know…" Crimson was glad that he had thought of this idea and not Wraith.

"That is all I needed to know." He pulled out a gun and pointed it straight at Crimson's head.

"What are you doing!?" Crimson for once sounded scared by the situation.

"What does it look like? I am going to kill you, and no matter how reinforced that mask of yours is it won't stop a straight shot…" Crimson knew that this was true, but he had no idea how he was going to get out of this.

"Why are you doing this?" He asked simply, thinking that it would be best to keep him talking in the hopes that someone would show up and see them.

"No need for you to know as you are going to die now." Crimson had a sudden idea. He looked over Wraiths left shoulder and gave a small nod.

Wraith took the bait and looked over his shoulder. In the split second that it took him to realise that he had been tricked Crimson had knocked the gun out of his hands. Wraith jumped back as Crimson unsheathed his sword. Wraith did the same with his double ended blade.

"Now we are in a better position to talk. Why?" Crimson asked again, not knowing why Wraith would suddenly turn on him and try to take his life.

"I would have thought the answer were simple…" Wraith struck, Crimson had his guard up though so he parried it easily, "…four hundred thousand francs is much more appealing than two hundred thousand."

Crimson decided to strike this time, he was not going to let Wraith lull him into a false sense of security. "And it was you who has been telling me all this time not to be greedy! Even the boss is only getting one hundred thousand out of this…"

Wraith gave an evil laugh. Crimson then noticed that the door had been shut and bolted. If he tried to escape then Wraith would have stuck the sword through him before he even had the chance to unlock it.

"You do know that it is impossible for you to win this fight don't you?" Wraith asked sarcastically yet also menacingly, "We have been working together for too long. I know your technique…"

Crimson did not even bother to waste his breath telling him that he also knew his technique. Crimson knocked Wraiths blade to one side with his and kicked at his chest.

"Is that the best you can do?" He said as Wraith fell hard to the floor, "…come on Wraith, if you cannot beat me then you haven't got a hope in hell's chance of beating the Phantom."

Wraith got quickly to his feet. Crimson did not want to have to kill him, but considering the situation that he was in he doubted that Wraith was going to leave him with much choice in the matter.

"This is coming from the person who hasn't even fought him yet!" Wraith shouted, infuriating Crimson.

"You are right there, though I am sure when I do I will not lose as easily as you did." Wraith swung his blade at him no less than ten times.

He was amazed at just how much punishment Crimson could take, any of the other members would have got too tired to carry on by now, but Crimson did not even look as though he was out of breath.

"Think about it Wraith, what could you possibly do with just under half a million francs!?" Crimson yelled at him, trying to make him see sense, as much as he didn't like him killing him would be a bit extreme.

"I don't know. I will have to find out when I get it!" He was not going to stop attacking him. This left Crimson with no choice…

He waited for him to swing at him again. Crimson stopped the attack with his blade and then grabbed the hilt of Wraith's double ended blade. Strength wise Crimson was the stronger of the two, so he did not have any trouble in forcing the blade out of his hands.

He then stabbed Wraith with his own blade straight through the chest. Wraith coughed up blood. "Impaled by your own sword my old friend…"

Crimson took the blade out of him and let it fall to the floor. "They are going to kill you…" Wraith said as he fell to his knees, "…understand? They will kill you when they find out that you have killed me…"

"Not when they know the reason." Crimson argued. Wraith had only seconds left to live. Crimson leant down and removed his mask so that he could stare at his true face when he died.

"Enjoy the afterlife Jacques Lemont. I helped you fake your own death once. This time I am helping you die…"

Jacques let out one last breath and then fell to the floor, dead. Crimson stared at him, he had no idea what it was he was going to do with the body, perhaps he should just leave it there for somebody to find. After all the fact that it was his own sword stuck in him meant that it would look sort of like a suicide.

Crimson thought that this was a very wishful thought to think. He did not want to stay near him any longer and so he unlocked the door and went as quickly as he possibly could towards the exit. Staying in headquarters for much longer would probably end up in either awkward question or death, or both…

He left through the trap door entrance, trying to forget about what had just happened. This was not easy to do however, killing somebody who you thought was on your side, and to a degree was on your side, was not something that left your mind with ease. It was lucky for Crimson that it was dark, otherwise he was sure that he would have been seen no less than twenty times as he made his way to the opera house.


	25. Blue Lagoon

By the end of this week the story will all be uploaded...sniff. Oh well, it has to come to an end at some point. Enjoy the chapter...

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Chapter 25- Blue Lagoon

"I think that we can safely say that was one of the most unpleasant experiences we have ever had…" André voiced to Firmin.

Firmin did not need to ask what he was talking about to know precisely what he meant. He was referring to a fateful event that had happened only yesterday, something that they hoped would never happen to them again now that they had experienced it.

"Crimson Nightshade…" Firmin whispered, the red eyes that he remembered only to clearly were still torturing his mind, "…why the hell did he think we would know anything?"

André did not answer because he did not have a clue as to why he would have thought this. He was sure that there was probably a rational explanation, but he was still too scared by the whole experience that he did not even think about what it could be.

"Well…" Firmin began, taking a sip of the coffee which André had made them, "…I suppose we are the managers of this place, and we have been the managers for a very long time. I suppose he assumed that if anyone was going to know something about the Opera Ghost it would be us."

"Well he was wasting his time!" André spat, the experience had made him somewhat bitter, "If we knew anything else about him then we would have told the police!"

Firmin sighed. "At least we know for sure that it is not 'The Phantom' who is the killer, and that does mean that we should tell the police to stop searching for him…"

André suddenly realised what Firmin had just said. "Does that mean that we can finally get rid of that bloody annoying detective who does nothing at all?"

Firmin shrugged. He was sure that he would probably stick around anyway even if there was no real reason for him to. There was a knock at the door.

"Come in…" They shouted, very unenthusiastically. Carrie walked in through the door, so they tried to look as normal as they possibly could. They did not want anyone hearing about their encounter with a murderous lunatic after all.

"Bonjour Messieurs…" She said, walking into the room. They did not know what she was doing there, "…I am sorry to disturb you, but I was wondering if rehearsals were going to be put back on soon."

The managers did not know how to answer her. They had cancelled the rehearsals straight after their little meeting with Crimson Nightshade. They looked at each other as though trying to read each others thoughts.

"We are sure that they are going to be put back on sooner or later, after all we would not want to cancel the production. That would be an awful thing to do." André said, hoping that this would satisfy her answer.

"Oh… ok…" She looked as though she was going to turn to leave, but then turned round as though she had just remembered something quite important, "…Monsieur Firmin, I was wondering if I could have the copy of that opera you told me about some time ago."

Firmin tried to work out what she meant. Then he remembered that he had told her about the Phantom's Opera, and in truth he had not even given it a second thought since he had done so, which was months and months ago.

"It will take a while to find, but I can assure you that once I find it I will get it straight to you." He could not honestly say that he was going to rush to go and look for it, if he had his way then he would have burned the thing in the fire, but André had convinced him to keep it as it was a 'very well written' opera.

"Thank you very much." She was extremely grateful for this. She was keen to keep learning more and more about the Phantom, and she was sure that the best thing she could do to learn more was to look at his Opera.

Carrie went over to the door. When she opened it however she saw Andrea with her hand raised as though she was just about to knock on the door.

"Ummm…" She said looking rather stupid, "…I think there is something that all of you should see…"

"And that would be…?" Carrie asked, she knew that she could not have known for certain that she would have been there, so it must have been something that was intended for the managers to see as well.

"Well… it's… oh just come with me will you!?" She nearly shouted her last few words, Causing André to jump and spill his coffee on the desk.

"Could you at least tell us what it is you want us to see that it so urgent?" He asked, trying to clean up the mess that he had just made.

"It is so much easier to show you rather than tell you…" She informed them, they did not see what this could be.

"Well can you at least just try to tell us?" Firmin asked. He really was not in the mood to go and see something that was more than likely completely pointless. The encounter with Crimson had changed his attitude as well as André's.

"Not really…" All three of them were getting very annoyed with her.

In then end they decided that it would be best to just follow her to wherever it was she wanted them to go. The two managers were sure that it would be absolutely nothing of importance, yet Carrie had never seen Andrea like this and so she wondered what on earth would have caused her to get as demanding as this.

It did not take them long to get to where she was taking them, which was no surprise as she was practically running down the halls of the opera house. They came to a halt, and it surprised everyone where it was. It was right outside Carrie's room…

-

Jake went downstairs into the kitchen. It felt weird to be living back at his old home again, yet at the same time wonderful. He could hear his parents having some sort of conversation in the study, but thought that it would be a very nosey thing to do if he eavesdropped.

There was one phrase he unintentionally caught however, though it was nothing extremely important. "I am going to do some more of my composing. All of this hassle has distracted me from it and so I have a lot of work to catch up on…"

Jake thought that this was very like his father. When not doing anything else, do some composing. Jake did wonder however what he meant by 'hassle'. Christine then chose that moment to come out into the kitchen.

"Good morning Jake." She said, remembering what it was like before he had moved away.

"Morning mother." He replied, whilst making some tea, "…would you like a cup of tea?"

Christine was very glad that he had offered. "Yes, thank you very much."

Jake made them two cups of steaming hot tea. He thought whether or not he should ask her what Erik had meant by hassle, and decided that he would after they had both had a spot of breakfast.

Christine however was not hungry and so this meant that he would just have to ask her anyway, breakfast or no breakfast. "Has something happened back here while I was in Calais?"

Christine looked over at him from the opposite side of the table, wondering whether or not she should tell him about the mysterious thing that had happened to her after she had presumably gone to the Eiffel Tower.

"Nothing much really… why do you ask?" She was sure that she had a very good idea why he had asked, but she did not like to jump to conclusions anyway.

"It is just something that I heard father say, that is all, something about a 'hassle'." This confirmed her suspicions. Jake would not have to have been downstairs for very long to hear something like this being said.

"Really…" Began Christine, really not wanting to tell him about the mysterious event yet, "…it is nothing that you need to trouble yourself with."

"So it is something…" Jake replied. Christine could have kicked herself. It was as though a little of Meg's soul had stayed behind in her. She was not being careful in what she said, just like Meg had always been.

"Yes, it is something. But like I said it is nothing that you need to go worrying yourself with, otherwise I would have told you if it were that important…" Jake decided to leave it at that. There was no point pressuring her into telling him something that she did not want to.

Christine put her cup down on the table. She had not noticed that she had been holding it very tightly all the way through the conversation that they had been having. Now that she thought about it she did feel hungry…

"I am going to go out anyway…" Jake announced, Christine wondered why, "…after all I need to start looking for a new job. Renting out my home can only get me so much money can't it?"

This explained it. She was going to ask just how much money he was getting from renting out his home, but thought better of it, this would after all sound like a rude question.

"I'm sure it is enough to get by isn't it?" Christine asked, this sounded a bit better than 'How much are you getting from it?'

"Only if you have somewhere else to live instead… otherwise you are a bit…" He did not want to finish the sentence as he did not know how to do so without sounding extremely rude indeed.

"So where are you going to go to look for a new job?" Came Erik's voice from the door.

This explained why the piano that had been playing in the background had become quiet. "I have no idea… I want to go and see the Eiffel Tower first though. My old boss had told me good things about it."

Christine shifted uneasily where she sat, yet Jake did not notice this as he had been looking at Erik while speaking to him.

"Yes…" Erik began, almost in a dream like state, "…I will have to go and have a look at it myself at some point with Christine…"

Jake turned to leave. He had just got to the door when he looked as though he had just remembered something. He did not turn round to say anything to them however, he just turned and left.

Christine thought this was very odd. "He seems to be acting very strangely…" She said.

"Indeed…" Erik agreed, not really knowing what else to say. His mind was a little to preoccupied with his opera, "…he has only just come home though, so it does not really matter does it?"

Christine did not say or do anything. _There must be something troubling him… hopefully he is not trying to work out what it was I did not tell him… _She thought to herself, almost convincing her that he more than likely was doing this.

"Christine… hello?" Erik started waving his hand in front of her face to try and snap her back to reality.

"What? Oh sorry…" She said, feeling very embarrassed even though it was only Erik there, "…I was just thinking."

"I could guess…" Erik joked, chuckling a bit. Christine got to her feet and Erik wrapped his arms around her, "…just don't worry about it, he will tell us in his own time…" Christine did not know what he meant, "…isn't that what you told me a while ago?"

Christine finally worked out what he was going on about. She laughed a little bit and so did he. Erik told her that he was going to go back to his composing, where as Christine had to feed the cats, but then did not know what she was going to do.

-

_Ok, so what is there in my room that is so special you had to inform the managers… or an even better question, what the hell were you doing in my room without my permission anyway? _Carrie thought to herself as they all entered the room.

As soon as they were all in they noticed what had changed. There was a brick missing from the wall, it stood out so much Carrie was surprised that she had not noticed it in the past.

She was sure that she would have seen it, so therefore assumed that Andrea had done something a little rash and torn it out of the wall. Andrea seemed to notice that Carrie had worked this out in her mind, so began to explain.

"It wasn't like I was snooping around you room or anything…" She started, Carrie knew that this defiantly was not true, "…but it was loose, as though it had been put there by a novice builder."

"But why would you want to take it out if it was loose?" Firmin asked. Andrea walked to stand beside the hole in the wall.

"Why not take a look for yourself…" She jerked her head in the direction of the hole.

André, Firmin and Carrie walked over to the hole. André looked through it first, let out a gasp and then stepped away.

"What?" Carrie and Firmin asked. André just gestured towards the hole. Firmin was the next to do so.

His reaction was exactly the same as André's, only Firmin went, "My Goodness…" as well.

Carrie went over to see what all of the fuss about. Looking through the hole she saw quite clearly what. Behind the wall was a passageway, a very dark passageway, the only source of light was that which was shining through the hole into the passageway from the room.

"Ok…" André said, as Carrie walked away from the wall, "…I think it is safe to say we have found an entrance to… what the hell are you doing!?"

Carrie had started to kick at the wall with all of her might. It did not take her to long, within minutes there was a gap big enough to walk through. She did not even wait to hear what everyone was going to say or see their reactions. All she wanted to do was see what was at the end of this passageway.

It was clear that nobody had been down there in ages. Carrie could hear footsteps behind her. She assumed that it would be the other three following her lead.

"Miss Daae…" Firmin said, running up beside her, "…this is mad going down here on our own. What we need is some sort of…what is the word?" He started to click his fingers as he thought.

All four of them jumped out of their skin as light erupted all around them. They all looked round to see that torches, held up by arms, had burst into flame, clearly showing the passage that was ahead of them.

Carrie was the first to recover from the shock. She resumed her walk down the now bright passageway. It was not a very long walk until they came to a large set of spiral stairs.

She started to descend them immediately. She could still hear the managers and Andrea behind her. About half way down, or at least what felt like half way down, Andrea ran up to walk beside Carrie.

"You know where this leads don't you?" She asked excitedly. Carrie thought that this was one of the most stupid questions to ask. Of course she did not know, she just assumed that it lead to the Phantom's lair, as everything seemed to point in that direction.

"Yes…" She answered, "…it would take an idiot to not know… watch out!" Andrea had fallen through a trap door, Carrie had only just managed to grab her arm before she fell straight through it.

"Help me! Lift me out!" Andrea screamed in terror, André and Firmin ran to help hoist her back out of the trap to her feet.

"Be more careful from now on, right?" Carrie said to her, trying to shed a bit of light on the subject in whatever way possible.

"Right…" She replied in a whisper. Her legs were shaking from what she was sure was a near death experience, even though they had no idea where it led.

They continued to venture even deeper beneath the opera house. It seemed to take ages to reach the bottom of the opera house, but at last they got there. Down another passage they went until they reached a vast lake. There was no visible way of crossing it.

"End of the line then…" André said. Carrie did not seem to think so. She walked straight over to the lake and dived in.

_I am not going to come all this way just to stop here… _She thought to herself, but then again who would?

She seemed to be the only one who really was this determined to reach wherever it was that was on the other side of the lake. There did not seem to be anything however. Carrie knew that there was going to be some sort of trick to opening up some passage, she was that obsessed with the Phantom she could tell what he would do without even meeting the man.

She came to a halt in front of a promising looking piece of wall. Carrie dived to see if there was anything beneath it. What appeared to be a large movable slab on the bottom of the lake looked as though it would do something interesting. She dived to the bottom and pressed it in, and then heard something moving from somewhere.

Carrie was just about to go to the surface when she saw a dreadful sight on the bottom of the lake. There were countless corpses on the bottom, she would have screamed if she were not underwater, but she surfaced and tried to remain as calm as possible.

Looking ahead of her she saw that the wall had gone. She did not hesitate to go through the newly revealed passage. There was land, she was grateful to finally get to walk on land once more, and cursed the fact that there was a boat on this side of the lake. She went through the nearby door into what appeared to be a very old kitchen. It was in a very poor condition. Carrie did not know how anybody managed to live here in the past.

It was a very large place, but then she considered the size of the opera house, if it were as big as it was then it was no real surprise that the Phantom's lair was that big as well. She walked through another door into what she assumed to be some kind of music room, there was an extremely battered looking grand piano in the centre of the room.

Carrie went over to it and pressed down on a key. It was so out of tune that Carrie doubted if it even actually did work. Then she noticed something very strange indeed, on the side of the piano was a music box, and attached was the figure of a monkey, dressed in Persian robes, playing the symbols.

She wound it up and it started to play. For a possession of the Phantoms it was a very gentle tune, and very pleasant to listen to. _I think I will take this back with me…_ She thought to herself, thinking that it might give her a bit more insight into who the Phantom was.

Carrie continued to explore all of the rooms. One room in particular caught her eye. It was what appeared to be a bedroom, with a very beaten up looking bed. In the corner stood a mirror. What was very curious about it indeed was that it was not smashed like all of the others Carrie had seen.

Going over to examine it more closely she found that the fact it was not broken was not the only mysterious thing about it. When she looked around the back to see if there was anything behind it she noticed that you could see through it. She tested this out a bit. She put her hand on one side of the mirror and looked through it from the back. Her hand was clearly visible, as if there were no mirror there.

She decided that it would be best not to stay here for much longer. The others were presumably still waiting on the other side of the lake. It was fortunate that there was a boat on this side. It meant that she did not have to swim across the freezing cold lake to get back.

When at last she was finally back with the others they all immediately asked the same question.

"Where in God's name did you get the boat from?" Carrie was shivering from the cold, and therefore did not really feel like answering.

"It was…" She shuddered from the cold again, "…it was in a sort of dock like area on the other side."

Firmin had half a mind to get in the boat and row over there to see what it was like for himself. He did not however, he knew that the health and safety of his performer Carrie came first. They all made their way slowly back to her room, they would have to get her warm as soon as they got back.

Andrea then noticed something. "What is that you have there Carrie?"

She gestured towards the music box. "I found it over there and I thought I would bring it back…" She replied, her voice shaking as she was still very cold.

"You will have to hand that over at some point. It may be handy in finding out who the phantom is…" Carrie had absolutely no intentions of handing the object over to anybody. It was rather like finders keepers.

"That is how I intend to use it. I and no one else…" Neither Firmin nor André wanted to have an argument with her when she was in such a fragile state physically.

It took them a long time to get back to her room. It was lucky that Carrie had locked the door behind her when she came in, otherwise anybody could have come in and seen the gaping hole that now existed in Carrie's wall.

"You should get in bed and try to get as warm as possible…" Firmin said to her as they walked over the threshold back into her room.

"First thing tomorrow…" Carrie began while shivering, "…first thing tomorrow I want that mirror put back on the wall…"

Firmin did not say anything, he simply nodded at her. It was André who spoke next. "Well try to get some sleep…"

"That is if my bed sheets have not gone missing again…" Everyone present thought that it was very strange of her to bring this up all of a sudden. After all it had been a very long time ago since her bed sheets had mysteriously vanished and never reappeared.

André went over and lit a fire in the fireplace. The two managers and Andrea then went to leave because they knew it would not be any good talking to Carrie when she was in a state like this.

Carrie went over and locked the door behind them. She then got out of all her wet clothes and settled into bed, placing the music box on her bedside table before she did so.

_Well… this has certainly been a more eventful day that I thought it would be… _This was the last thing she could remember before finally beginning to drift off into a very uneasy sleep. She had no idea what would happen in the morning, yet she was sure that it would involve a lot of questioning. After another few minutes she was asleep, having very unusual dreams indeed.


	26. The Liars Labyrinth

Here ya go, the next chapter. Sorry it wasnt up as early as they have been the past two days but i had college. Anyway, this was one of my fave chapters to write, so i hope you enjoy reading it...

* * *

Chapter 26- The Liars Labyrinth 

"You killed him!" This was precisely the accusation that Crimson was hoping to avoid, but unfortunately these were the first three words that he heard when he returned to the base.

"Is that really how you are going to welcome me back?" He asked sarcastically. Really all that he was doing at the moment was trying to stall for time, the sarcastic tone of voice was just disguising the fear that was pulsing through his body at that very moment.

"You do not deny it then!?" Glacier shouted back at him. She sounded half triumphant in getting what was practically a confession out of Crimson.

Crimson was silent, it would only take a fool not to work out that it was him who killed Wraith and left his corpse on the floor of the armoury. He was trying to think of a decent argument to defend himself and yet knew that even if he did speak the truth he would not be believed.

Glacier was watching him. She was ready to kill at his next words, sure that he was going to gloat about finishing Wraith off. She was therefore very surprised when she heard his next few words, very surprised indeed.

"He attacked me first. If I had my way then he would still be alive…" Glacier could not believe what she was hearing, sure that it was not true, "…but it was either him or me. Call me selfish if you want but I value my life much more than I value his."

This caused her to snap, she slapped Crimson as hard as she could across his masked face. This was a very stupid move considering that his mask was armoured enough to almost stop a bullet but she did not show any sign of pain.

Crimson let out a small chuckle. The slap did not hurt him one bit. Glacier then reached up, removed his mask and punched him again, causing him to fall backwards onto the floor. This one had definitely hurt him a lot. He would not be the least bit surprised if that had left a mark.

When he looked back up at Glacier he saw that she was holding his mask. Crimson had just the thing for such an occasion. He pulled a second mask that was attached to his belt off of it and put it on to replace the other one. There was no difference between the two masks.

Glacier looked at him in amazement. In all the time that she had known Crimson she had never ever spotted that mask. "You are much wiser than you look, murderer."

"You can't talk, going to kill someone when you need not just because you haven't killed anyone in a while." Crimson thought that this snide comment would be enough to shut her up. _You never know, she may even listen to the truth that you are telling to her… _He thought to himself, though he knew that this was not a very likely thing to happen, especially with someone as stubborn as Glacier.

"You killed my lover just because you did not like him!" She shouted at him, then she reached up to remove Crimson's second mask but he was too quick for her this time.

He seized her wrist before she had the chance to take the mask off and then started twisting it, causing her terrible pain. Crimson was in half a mind to break her wrist but thought that the pain would be enough to make her realise that he was not a person to annoy.

"Don't think just because you are a woman I am going to make any allowances…" He hissed, twisting her wrist a bit more causing even more pain to Glacier.

She was not screaming or crying but the look on her face was enough to tell just what she was going through. In the end Crimson finally let go of her, deciding that she had learnt her lesson. Within the few seconds that it took for Glacier to regain her normal state he had seized his mask back from her and attached it to his belt.

"The boss is going to want to see you…" Glacier informed him. This came as absolutely no surprise to him whatsoever, yet he tried to act a little bit surprised, though he doubted very much that his act was convincing.

"Really, I never would have thought he would want to see someone who had killed a member of Draconosis." He did not much care that he was confessing his murder to her. He still knew that it was self defence, even if she did not.

"You are dead Crimson…" She seemed to relish at the thought of Crimson finally meeting his end, even though that time had not yet come, "…the boss is going to see to that personally."

"Since when did you know what the boss is and is not going to do? Last I heard you have never even met the man, shows what you know…" He turned and left before she had chance to respond to this remark.

He knew of course that she was probably right. Wraith after all was the boss' first right hand man, and now that he was gone it was only going to be a matter of time before Crimson followed.

Crimson did not have any idea where it was he was going to go. He just wandered aimlessly around the entire base, wondering if he had even the slightest chance of making it through this day. The odds were he did not, though he vowed to be optimistic and look at even the slightest chance that he would still be alive.

Little did he know that later that day his optimism would be put to a very extreme test…

-

_Gone gone gone! I knew you should have put it somewhere where nobody else would find it… _Carrie thought to herself. It was stupid of her to not put the music box that she had found down in the Phantom's Lair somewhere more safe, because now somebody had somehow snuck into her room and taken it.

Carrie did not know who this could have been. She knew that it was probably not either of the managers. They would never just take something from her without asking like that. Perhaps it was Andrea, who after all came with them down the passage yet did not go with Carrie into the main Lair.

She did not see why Andrea would want it however; after all she was not as obsessed with the Phantom as Carrie was. There was no-one else who would really want to take it from her though. When the maids came round to clean the room they would just think it were a normal music box, not an item that belonged to the Opera Ghost.

Carrie wondered if either the managers or Andrea had said anything about their little trip to beneath the Opera House to anybody else. This was an unlikely scenario, as the managers had told both of them to keep their mouths shut about the whole event. It was not very likely that they would say this to Carrie and Andrea and then go and tell somebody else anyway.

There was only one real solution to the whole thing that Carrie thought was rational. Somebody must have been there besides the four of them that went down. She could see no real way for anyone to have followed them down and not been seen though, after all the room had been locked and even if they had managed to get in the room and into the passage it was too narrow to hide in.

Another thought then came into Carrie's mind. _What if it was the Phantom… if it was him he would have obviously wanted his property back… _She then realised that this was a very absurd thought, after all the Phantom was more than likely dead. _What if he isn't dead though…_

Carrie pushed all of these thoughts out of her mind. She had to think logically in order to work out who took the music box from her and why. There was no success in the matter however, she thought and thought of who it could be yet none of the people she came up with could have possibly done it.

At last she decided the best course of action to take would be to go and talk to the managers, just to see if they did know anything about it going missing. Carrie went over to the door and exited through it, making sure that she locked the door behind her so that nobody could sneak in and take any more of her things.

For some strange reason a cold shiver ran down her spine and she walked to the managers' office. She did not know why but she thought that something was horribly wrong. There was nothing to justify this feeling however, people were walking around, talking, laughing, smiling and generally in a very good mood. Why was it then that Carrie felt like something terrible was taking place?

The answer to her question was given to her when she reached the door of the managers' office. She raised her hand to knock on the door, yet stopped just as she went to strike it. There were more than two voices coming from within the room, and from what Carrie could hear it was a terrible argument that was taking place.

"If you do not co-operate with me then I am afraid gentlemen that I am under orders to eliminate you…" This voice was that of a woman, and a very posh woman at that. Carrie could not believe what she had just heard, this person meant to kill the managers.

The next voice that she heard was Firmin's. "…why are you people so obsessed with us!? We have already told you that we know nothing of this bloody Phantom!"

Carrie thought that he sounded unnaturally brave considering what it was he has just been told by the woman. She wondered if he had told her about the lair that they had found.

"Monsieur if you do not start speaking the truth then I am going to have to torture you until you do so…" Carrie did not know what this woman wanted, but she seemed to not care how far she went to get it.

"…what the hell do you want to know that you don't know already?" André asked, not quite as bravely as Firmin had, yet still it was a good attempt at hiding the fear that was in his voice.

"Well…" Began the woman, there was an uneasy silence that followed this word, "…for starters I am going to want to know why you did not tell us about the entrance to his lair that is in little Miss Daae's room…"

Carrie stood stock still, she had not been expecting her name to crop up in this conversation, and did not like it now that it had. She pressed her ear up against the door to try and hear what the managers' reply to this question was going to be. _Come to think of it why are they talking to such people anyway? Surely they have more sense in them than that…_

"We did not know about that when you last came for a little visit, or when your friend Monsieur Nightshade came for a visit I might say…" Firmin replied, Carrie thought that he sounded remarkably calm, even though it was obviously just an act of his to try and not show weakness.

"Is that the truth?" Carrie assumed that this question was directed at André, there was no sound… "Good. I am glad that I am not wasting my time interrogating a couple of low life, second rate opera running…"

-

"Liar!" Crimson was hit hard round the back of the head, which stunned him somewhat. _How do you manage to move so damned fast!?_

"I am not lying!" He spun round ready to defend himself, yet saw that he was looking at thin air. "Why don't you just listen to me for once!?"

"Because I know Wraith better than anyone else in this whole organisation does…" _Did… _Crimson thought to himself, he knew that this would probably be a fatal thing to say out loud, "…and if there is anything about him that I admired it is how he was never greedy!"

Crimson could not believe that the boss was being so blind to the whole situation. He had thought that the boss would have seen the whole thing, after all his eyes were everywhere, as he kept reminding people. No one really knew how he managed to be everywhere, but never questioned it either. It seemed now however that he had not been at the armoury at the time that Crimson and Wraith were having the fight.

"He was never greedy when it came to small amounts of money…" Crimson said, not knowing where to say it to as the boss was not in his vision, "…but when you say a figure that involves the word 'million', even if it is only half a million, that is when the greed took over…"

Crimson braced himself, sure that this was going to earn him a terrible whack to the head, or maybe even a stab in the chest. He knew that he had no chance of defending himself against the boss, no one did. There was no pain however, only silence.

"Are you trying to say that he was going to try and kill me too…?" Crimson had never really thought if this, yet if Wraith really did want the full half a million then he would have had to.

"Well, yes…"

"Liar!" He felt another blow to the side of the head, and he fell to the floor. His vision went black, though he was sure he was not dying. He then heard a voice speak out to him from the blackness. "Wraith was the most loyal member of Draconosis, and I do not and will not believe that he was going to kill me for money…"

Crimson completely blacked out. He was left lying there on the floor of the boss' room, unconscious. The boss then walked over to him, he knew exactly the thing to get rid of Crimson for good…

-

"_You have skill…" A voice said, "…a normal job would never suit someone of your abilities…"_

"_And what exactly are you suggesting?"  
_

"_You will be the first one that I have picked myself, your talent will be far greater than any of the other rookies…" The man that this voice belonged to sounded quite excited._

"_You are asking me to become a killer aren't you?" The man knew that it would not be long before this was worked out._

"_In effect yes. I did not think you were the type of person to want a static job. So, what do you say? A job as an assassin, especially in our group is far better than what it is you want to do…"_

"_I don't think it is. The job I want is much more creative… even if it is static and repetitive…"_

"_The pay for this job is far better…"_

_This was a tempting statement._

"_Show me what makes it so special and I may consider…"_

_­_-

Crimson awoke from his slumber, yet he did not open his eyes. He was trying to think about what he had just dreamt about. It did not take him long to work it out. That was the day that he was recruited by Wraith as a member of Draconosis…

He felt a gentle breeze sweep over him. It was lucky he had his mask on else his face would have been freezing. Crimson could just about hear the rustle of the leaves on the trees, then he suddenly realised what he was hearing. If he was hearing the rustle of leaves then that meant that he was outside lying down on the ground.

He opened his eyes, but then almost immediately wished that he had not. He found himself staring into a pair of terrible yellow eyes, these eyes happened to belong to a snake…

Crimson did not even dare to blink. Any sudden movement could cause the reptile to strike at him at any moment. _Outside, you fool! _He thought to himself, still concentrating hard not to blink. The snake slithered even closer to his face, then hissed very loudly.

The hiss nearly caused Crimson to jump, yet he managed to contain himself. He very slowly reached his hand down to his belt, he then discovered that he had a knife on him, as well as his blade.

He flicked the knife away from him, creating a clatter a few feet away from him and the snake. The snake looked round to see what the source of the noise was. In the few seconds it took to do this Crimson had drawn his blade and cut it in half, causing blood to go everywhere.

Crimson got to his feet. He looked around, knowing where he was before he even did so. _The Liars Labyrinth… _This was the last place any of the members of Draconosis wanted to be, only a few had been thrown in there, and only one had managed to make it out alive. Glacier had never been the same since her experience in the Labyrinth but had not told anybody what really happened in there… or here as the case was for Crimson.

The first thing he did was look at the door. He knew that once it was closed completely it could not be opened from the inside. There was only one thing that he could do, and that would be to make his way through the Labyrinth and hope that he survived.

This was much easier to think about than it was to actually do. He looked down the mist covered pathway, knowing that there was obviously more than snakes ahead. There was nothing for it. He began to walk very slowly down the passage, using his cape to blow away the mist that covered the floor.

Doing this was a very wise move. Every so often Crimson would come across a trap door, when he first came across one he opened it to see what was inside, but then wished he hadn't. It was a trap into a spike filled pit, there were at least two rotting corpses in the one that he looked into.

He continued along the passage, making sure that he followed the right wall around, knowing that this would lead him to the exit no matter what. The only problem was if he did come across a dead end the term was much more literal than in a normal maze.

When he first came to a dead end he turned round to see no less than six snakes blocking his exit. It had taken a lot of skill for him to take out all of them without getting bitten.

From then on whenever he came to a dead end he was sure not to stay there for very long. He was sure that there was some sort of mechanism that released snakes whenever you came to a dead end, yet he did not want to test this theory if he could help it.

The next major test that he came across was somewhat or a gamble. In front of his were four separated pathways, yet all there were separated by were lines that were drawn on the floor. He knew that it would be a very stupid thing to do to just walk down them, yet did not really want to stay in the same place for too long.

On the wall to his left he saw some writing, which looked as though it had been written in blood…

_We give you no hints as to which is the right path, Liar. Unless you want to stay here forever you best choose your path… Remember, walking on more than one path at a time will result in death…_

Crimson looked at the paths. They were too long to just jump across to the other side… He was sure that there would be some way of working it out however. He went over to the start of the path on the far left, it was lucky that there was no mist in this area else it would have been hell to see it, then placed his foot at the start.

Nothing happened, though Crimson knew that it would be foolish to just assume that this was the right path to walk down. He placed his foot on the path to the right of this one, nothing happened, then the other two and still nothing happened.

It was clear to Crimson that it was just going to be sheer luck if he survived this. _If it is your time to die then it is your time… _He did not know how he was still managing to be so optimistic. Taking a deep breath he began to walk down the path on the far right, he did not know what was going to happen if he had not chosen the right one.

He walked as fast as he could towards the end. He was nearly there when he noticed a cross on the path… Losing his nerve he hopped onto the path just to the left, then wished he hadn't. The walls began to close together, yet he was only feet from the end. They were moving together very fast, Crimson sprinted, then jumped the final few feet.

It was a miracle that he was still alive. He noticed more writing on the wall to his left.

_If you are reading this then you are obviously alive, any of the paths would have guaranteed you safety, changing paths is what would have killed you…_

_So I should be dead… _Crimson thought. He did not want to think like this though, he was alive and that was all that mattered.

There was only one final test which was between him and his freedom. There was a ladder in the middle of a circular clearing than he managed to reach after a short while. The only problem was that the floor, which was mist free, was covered in spiders, spiders of all shapes and sizes. Crimson only knew what two of them were, tarantula and black widow.

He had no idea how he was meant to get to the ladder, yet still did not want to stay put. He spotted a torch on the wall to his right, he took it down and threw it into the spider pit. They scattered away from it, Crimson then jumped into the spider free Circle that was created, he knew that one false move would result in him being bitten and killed.

The ladder was within jumping distance. Crimson jumped to it, only missing the spiders by inches. He climbed up the ladder as quickly as possible, opened the trapdoor at the top and climbed out. He was now standing in the Boss' chamber, which was the last place he could remember being.

Before he could say anything to the boss however, he felt a dreadful pain in his right shoulder. He let out a yell, the boss chuckled.

"All this was just to fall at the last hurdle…" He heard his mutter in a sadistically happy tone of voice, "…you need one of these."

He held up what Crimson assumed was an antidote. Crimson noticed that the source of the pain was a black widow that had managed to make its way onto his shoulder. He brushed it off before any more venom could enter his blood.

"I didn't come all this was just do die…" Crimson began, "…I came all of this was because I did not belong in there… I am not a liar…"

The boss seemed to be considering this statement. "You have minutes to live. Why should I spare your life?"

Crimson knew that he just wanted him to plea, yet did not see the harm in pleading anyway. "Because you know that I did not kill him because I wanted to. You know that I would never kill someone just because I don't like them…" The boss considered him a bit more, "…so am I allowed to have that or not…?"


	27. Fires of Eden

Three chapters left after this one, it seems like only yesterday that the first chapter was being uploaded...enjoy chapter twenty seven...

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Chapter 27- Fires of Eden

"Any luck?" Christine asked Jake. He knew exactly what she was talking about but did not really want to give her an answer.

"No…" He began and then he took off his coat and placed it on the back of a chair. Jake did not know what to say to her, "…I don't really think I have much chance of finding another job… perhaps I should go back to Calais and beg for my old job…"

Christine got to her feet and suddenly started to speak in quite a harsh tone. "You are better than that! Never stop trying to shoot for what it is you want in life. Don't think that one job is the beginning and end of everything…"

Jake had never ever heard her speak like this but now that she did say this to him he noticed how right she was. He had not necessarily told her everything but he liked what she had just said.

_If that is the case then I wonder what it was that father did to get so rich… _Jake thought to himself. He was just about to say this to his mother but there was a shout from the other room which drove this clean out of his mind.

"It is finished!" The voice that shouted this happened to be Erik's. He sounded triumphant about something. Christine forgot what it was she had been doing and went to see him. Jake followed her, curious about what could make him so happy all of a sudden.

"Your new opera?" Christine asked when both she and Jake had entered the music room. They saw Erik sitting at the piano holding a leather-bound folder in his hands.

"Precisely…" He said to them. From what Jake could remember this was the happiest he had ever seen his father in a long time, "…months and months and months of hard work and finally it is complete!"

Christine flung her arms around him. She seemed to be even more pleased about him finishing his work than he was. Jake just stood there. He did not really know what he was supposed to say here.

"Congratulations…" Jake said, this was the first word that came into his mind. He put on a smile and tried to look happy about this but did not really know why he was finding it difficult to do so.

"Thank you…" Erik replied, glad that his son was pleased for him, "…not that it is going to be seen by anyone."

_Or are they… _Erik suddenly had this thought. Now he came to think of it, didn't he write Don Juan with the intentions of it going with him to his grave before anyone saw it? Why should he keep this opera to himself?

"Oh Erik… you should go to some opera house that is stuck for a production and…" Erik could not believe what he was hearing from Christine, he turned to her bewildered.

"The Populaire would be the perfect place to go for that then, ever since those two clueless…" He was about to go into a rant about the managers, but then remembered that Jake did not know that he had lived in the Opera House for most of his life.

There was a long silence. Jake did not really seem to be interested. This was fortunate. It meant that his sudden lack of speaking would not look suspicious to him, if he had continued his rant however he was sure that it would have led to a lot of awkward questioning from Jake.

"I will take it to the Populaire at some point and see if they are at all interested in it…" Erik finished. Christine hugged him tightly, and Jake turned to go into the kitchen as he was now hungry, "…I think the first opera that I gave them would have gone down a little bit better if my mother had not had the sudden urge to become a dancer though…"

He whispered these last words to Christine and she let out a little chuckle. She was glad that he could make jokes about his mother rather that talk about her out of spite and loathing.

"When are you going to take it to them?" She asked him.

"Oh I don't know… later tonight I suppose…" He did not seem to really be worried about when he was going to do it. He seemed to be much more worried about actually doing it.

"Sooner rather than later is always better for these sorts of things…" Christine said to him, then she turned to go into the kitchen as well, "…do you want a cup of tea?"

Erik smiled at her offer. "No thank you, I still need to go over this and check for mistakes…"

Christine was amazed by the effort that he put into his composing. She went into the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea, only to see that Jake had already made them a cup each.

"You always have one at this time of day…" Jake said to her before she could even ask how he knew she was going to want one, "…you do forget that I lived here for a good fourteen years before I left."

Christine took the cup of tea off of the table and took a sip. Jake had a way of making a cup of tea so that it was not too hot nor too cold, meaning that it did not take very long to drink at all.

"Well, I had better go job hunting again. I can't just sit around here having tea all day…" He said to Christine, but then she noticed something.

"You only just came back from job hunting about an hour ago…" She said to him. Jake had to do some quick thinking.

"Umm yes… but since you told me to never stop aiming for what you want out of life it has inspired me to go and look for a job again today…"

He turned and left before Christine even had a chance to tell him how bizarre this sounded. She had never seen Jake act so strangely before, with the exception of course of when he refused to tell them what his new job was.

-

"Well I hope you are happy…" The boss said to Glacier, "…he is eliminated. His corpse will forever be lost in the Labyrinth."

Glacier smiled widely, this was exactly the thing that she was hoping to hear. "I hope it was a very slow and painful death…" She said. Glacier was surprisingly calm considering that this was the first time that she had spoken to the boss face to face.

"Spider bite…" The boss informed her, obviously liking the thought quite a lot himself, "…he begged me for the antidote before he died. I never knew that he feared death quite so much."

Glacier laughed. She had not been as happy as she was today for a very long time. "I always knew that all of his claims about 'I do not fear death' were a load of old rubbish."

The boss went over to the chair that stood at the back of his chamber. He sat down in it, looking over at Glacier and wondering how any woman could have such a cold heart. This made sense as to why she chose the code-name Glacier, the blood in her veins was as cold as the name itself.

"Who is first in command now then?" She asked, clearly hoping beyond everything else that it was going to be her.

"I have not decided yet…" The boss replied in his low, sinister voice, "…yet when I do I will be sure to let you know immediately."

Glacier smiled. She was sure that now Crimson had been killed in the Labyrinth then she would take over from him. "…and what about the amazing job that both Crimson and Wraith were doing?"

This would be the icing on the cake if she was told that she would be taking over from them and taking all of the money that they would have earned between them. "I am going to try and do that on my own for the moment…" He began, this shattered all of Glaciers hopes of becoming four hundred thousand francs richer, "…but if I decide that I need anyone's help then I am sure I will turn to you straight away."

Glacier took this as a sign to leave. She was just heading over to the door when a hand closed on her shoulder. Glacier turned round to see the boss right behind her. She wondered what it was that he wanted now.

"I thought you might like to have something, a little something that I managed to take from him before he died…" He held out his gloved hand, and Glacier saw that the object that he wanted to give her was none other than the mask that Crimson always wore.

"Why would you think that I wanted this thing?" She asked in a very bitter tone.

"Oh I don't know…" He replied, clearly showing that he did have an answer due to the sarcasm in his voice, "…I thought you might like to put it up on your wall as a trophy to show how much you hated him."

Glaciers mouth twitched but not quite enough to form a smile. She seemed to be considering the offer, and then after a few more moments reached out a hand and took the mask from the boss. "Thank you…" She said, trying to sound grateful even thought she really could not care less whether or not she had the mask in her possession or not.

"No problem…" The boss replied, then he turned and went back over to his chair, "…now, don't you have some work to be getting on with?"

Glacier thought for a moment. "Not that I can think of. Young Fiora asked for some throwing knives training but…."

"Then you do have some work to be getting on with…" The boss cut her off, "…always think carefully before giving an answer."

Glacier wondered why he was giving her such a useless piece of advice, yet decided it would be best not to question the matter. She turned and left, this time she was not stopped by the boss, for which she was grateful, even though she had not met the man in person before now that she had she realised just how creepy he was.

_Maybe it would be best if I was not first in command… _She thought to herself, then realised that she was not yet first in command but before meeting the man she would have done anything to get into that position.

She had told Fiora to meet her in the armoury and so she started to head off in that direction. Glacier thought that everyone seemed to be a little disheartened. Did people really like Crimson Nightshade that much? She could not see why anyone would be sad to see him gone. In her opinion the knowledge that he was dead was very comforting, not disheartening.

Glacier stopped outside the entrance to the Liars Labyrinth. A smile crept onto her face. She could just picture Crimson lying in a mass of giant spiders, pale, motionless and lifeless. Then she felt something she was not expecting, was it guilt? _No, he is dead, that is how you wanted it to be, he killed Jacques… _She tried to get rid of these feelings, yet had no success.

The mask that she had been holding in her right hand fell to the floor without her even noticing. Glacier did not want to stay near the door where most of her nightmares had originated and so she walked off briskly in the direction of the armoury.

A hand closed over the mask that had been dropped…

-

"I swear if we get any more visits from this group of maniacs then I am out of here!" André shouted, even thought he knew this was not a very wise thing to bellow at the top of his lungs.

"Oh do calm down Gilles… I mean what are the odds of a third one of them coming to pay a visit, eh?" Firmin asked, trying to calm André down, knowing that this would be a very difficult if not impossible task to achieve.

"I thought that was what you said when the first one came to see us!" André replied, proving Firmin right in his thoughts. "But were you right then? Or was it just the odds trying to annoy us?"

Firmin tried as best he could to ignore him. He could not see the point in arguing over this. In fact he would have preferred to argue over something stupid, like what they were going to do now that the cleaners wanted a pay rise. But no, there had to be something life threatening to argue over, which went without saying, was a bleak topic to discuss indeed, let alone argue.

"I think that the best thing to do is to keep calm, there is no point making a big fuss out of the whole thing." Firmin said, yet André's reaction to this made him wish that he hadn't almost at once.

"A big fuss!" He shouted, getting to his feet immediately. "We have been threatened with our lives Richard! And you are saying that we should not make a big fuss over the whole thing!?"

Firmin could not think of anything to say that would calm him down. "As long as we abide by their rules then there will be no reason for any harm to come to us will there?"

André did not seem to be listening to him. Firmin was sure that these words of wisdom would have made him realise just how much he was blowing the whole things out of proportion.

Firmin was surprised however. André did seem to be listening to what he had just said. "And what are the rules?" He asked, not quite as angrily as he had done a few moments ago.

"Umm, let me think…" Firmin said, trying to remember everything that had been said to them by the woman in white, "…follow any orders that they may give us, any information we have on the Phantom we are to write down on a piece of paper and leave for them to collect…"

"…at the drop point, which is a bin outside Clements Café." André finished, Firmin nodded to show that this was what he remembered being told.

"Do not go to the police…" Firmin added, this one went without saying, if they went to the police then they would more than likely have their heads cut off.

"Do not tell anyone about our little meetings with them…" This also went without saying, it was almost as obvious as the do not go to the police rule.

"And…" Firmin began, trying to think of what seemed to be the last one, "…act as though nothing out of the ordinary has happened."

This last one seemed to be the rule that made André realise just what an idiot he was being by shouting the whole thing so that anyone could hear them. They were both silent, as if they did not dare to speak after reciting these rules.

"So…" André said, somewhat more nervously than he would normally have, yet it was a brave attempt to sound normal, "…what is going to be our next production?"

Firmin thought for a moment. "Well, we could put on an old one. I mean it has been about twenty years since we have done Faust…"

André scoffed. "That is the worst mistake we could possibly make. Do you know how much we will be laughed at if we put on a production that we have already done in the past?"

Firmin thought for a moment, and could sort of see where André was coming from. "How about 'Don Juan Triumphant'? I mean that only ran for one night before the whole place was set on fire…"

André seemed to be considering this. "I think that would be a very bad idea… I mean people will remember that opera as the one that started the fire, so chances of a full house are slim…"

The two managers looked at the door to see who it was who had said this. They were both looking at a hooded figure in a black cape. "Oh no…" Firmin said, trying to stay a little calm yet failing miserably, "…not again... what have we done this time?"

André knew exactly who this one was, this would be one of the two. He matched the description perfectly. The figure in black however looked quite startled at the managers' fear of him.

"What the hell are you talking about?" He asked in a very sarcastic voice, "…this is after all the first time that I have come to speak with you face to face for a good…" He lowered his hood, "…eighteen years."

The two managers did not say a single word, the face that they were hoping to forget and never have to see again for the rest of their lives was now only a couple of metres in front of them. The Phantom of the Opera had returned to the Populaire at last, yet he did not seem as dangerous as he was eighteen years ago.

"Have you missed me good messieurs?" He asked, yet not in the sinister tone that he had used to use. "And again, I have written you an opera!"

The managers had a very strong feeling of déja vu. Neither of them even dared to speak for fear of having their head in a noose if they said the wrong thing. The Phantom however had a very confused expression on his face. Obviously he had changed quite a lot over the eighteen years.

"Are you not pleased?" He asked, obviously confused. "I thought you did not know what production to put on next…?"

"We…" Firmin said, then could not say another word because of the constricting feeling he had around his throat.

"Weren't…" André finished, it was as though they could only say one word at a time before losing their voices.

The Phantom laughed, though it was not a menacing one like they were used to hearing. It was more a sort of friendly one. "I will leave this in your capable hands then gentlemen. I am sure that it will be a very good production, maybe even as good as Faust was…" He put a leather bound folder on the desk.

He turned and left, pulling his hood up over his head as he left. André and Firmin looked at each other, as though testing to see if they had just imagined the entire thing. Firmin pinched his own arm.

"Ouch…" He said, wincing at the same time, "…well that takes away the possibilities of this being a very bad dream…"

André mustered up enough courage to go over to the desk and picked up the folder. He read the cover and then said the title out loud to Firmin, "Fires of Eden…" Firmin moved over beside him so they could look at the actual score together, "…well, what do you think?"

It took them the best part of an hour to look through the entire score carefully. The opera itself was not as long as Don Juan, yet it was still quite a long opera never the less.

"I am not so sure…" Firmin said, leaning in back in his chair, "…I mean the last time we put on one of his Opera's the house burned down."

He looked out the window and saw that it had started to rain. He did not know what to think, there were way too many things happening at once for him to stand a chance of thinking rationally any more.

"Well I do have a good idea of what to do…" They looked over at the door to see their least favourite person standing there, it was the woman in white, "…I think you should put it on…"

They did not know what to say, they were still recovering from meeting the Phantom to be able to cope with this as well. "And why should we do that?" André asked, clearly trying to act brave.

"Because I told you to…" She replied in her posh voice. The managers thought that she sounded considerably more cheerful than she had done the first time they had met her, "…didn't I tell you to follow my orders without question?"

The managers did not answer, of course she had. _But I do not see why we should put it on. It looks just as damn complicated as his last one did… _Firmin thought to himself, being sure to keep his face neutral so as not to show any of his thoughts through his expression.

"Just make sure that the rehearsals are underway as soon as possible. I want the production to be running before the month is over…" André realised just how much she sounded like the Phantom. It was as though the Phantom had reformed into a nicer human being and this was who had come along to replace him.

"Ok…" Firmin replied, not looking up at her, "…anything else?"

Glacier seemed to be waiting for this. "Yes, as a matter of fact there is. I would like you to make sure that the Phantom has his usual seat…"

Both of them were planning to do this anyway, even though the Opera Ghost did not seem nearly as dangerous as he once was they still dared not disobey him. It was that old expression of 'old habits die hard', they had always never sold box five to anyone, ever.

"Good, then until we next meet gentlemen, which should not be for a while…" She left quickly and silently.

Firmin looked over at André to see that he had passed out. He was trying to think of what would be the best thing to do next. There was nothing else to do really but to go and announce what they were going to be doing next as a production.

It was nearly time for dinner andso it would be a good idea to announce it then. Firmin went over to try and bring André back to consciousness but had no success. The most he achieved was André muttering 'Draconosis…'

Firmin looked back over the Opera. It was going to be very difficult to get everybody ready for it within the space of a month. It would mean a lot of late night rehearsals.

_People are going to hate me when I tell them the time limit that we have to get this done in… _He thought to himself, wishing that he could discuss this with André. This thought was more than likely going to turn out to be true. Jean was going to hate him for having to get the orchestra ready so quickly. Jennifer would hate them for wanting the dancers ready so quickly and everyone else would just hate them for wanting the whole thing done so quickly.

"Perhaps you are cursed…" He said aloud to himself, "…perhaps you should have just stayed in the junk business…"

"Scrap metal…" André muttered, having just regained consciousness.

"Nice of you to return André… ready to go and tell everyone the good news?" André did not answer. He just got to his feet and went over to the door. Firmin followed him out of it. They were both heading in the direction of the dining room, both dreading what they were going to have to tell all of their performers.

_Well, at least we both got our wish. We know what we are going to be doing for our next production… _André thought to himself as he reached out a hand to open the door to the dining room…


	28. No Longer Triumphant

Two chapters left after this one...not really anything else to say that is very interesting. Anyway, enjoy the chapter...

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Chapter 28- No Longer Triumphant

"It is official! Those two have completely lost the plot…" Carrie said to Andrea, who let out a very small laugh once she had said this.

"Well…" She began in reply to this funny statement, "…I am not sure if they even had the plot to begin with. Perhaps they are just mad…"

Carrie laughed. She did not know why she was laughing. The task that everyone had been given was so difficult that she would have thought it were impossible to laugh. People who they were walking past in the halls of the Populaire were looking at them in amazement. Apparently everyone was too shocked at having to learn everything in the space of one month.

"It was worse than this when we had to do Don Juan…" Andrea said to Carrie, who looked as though she was being depressed a little bit by all of the sorrowful expressions on everyone's face. Carrie listened intently at the mention of Don Juan, not really sure if she had heard right, "…we were given a week's warning in order to finish rehearsals for that, and when we were given the warning we weren't even one quarter done…"

Carrie looked over at her curiously. "Who was it that gave you the warning? Surely it could not have been one of the managers. They would never do something so stupid… I am surprised that they want us to get this one done in a month, but I can't imagine…"

"It was the Phantom of course…" Carrie looked over at her with an extremely puzzled look on her face, "… I mean, who else would give an order like that, I mean it is his Opera after all."

Carrie was stunned. This was the last thing she would have expected her to say about the Phantom. She would have expected her to say something like 'He was basically the manager of this place, so he made all of the decisions, didn't he?' But to be the composer, this could not be right, after all she had been told by her father that he was the composer of Don Juan, unless…

"Are you sure that he was the composer?" She asked Andrea, obviously wondering whether or not she had heard her right.

"Positive, he even performed in the Opera himself. I suppose he wanted to make sure that the whole thing ran smoothly didn't he? Well of course that did not work. It was his fault that the place caught fire that night after all…"

"It was what!?" Carrie shouted and then noticed just how rude she must have sounded. "I mean… why would he want to do such a thing if it was his Opera that he did it in?"

Andrea seemed to be trying to work out why Carrie was going so mad at these pieces of information but had no success and so thought it would be best to just carry on the conversation.

"Well, nobody really knows for sure. Your mother might know something. She was singing the duet with him when… I remember!" Andrea looked as though everything had just suddenly come rushing back to her. "Your mother was threatened by this insane woman with a gun and then the Phantom tried to stop her killing Christine and got shot in the hand!"

Carrie seemed to be piecing everything together. Now that she thought about it didn't Erik wear a glove on his right hand and refused to answer the question 'Why do you wear that glove all the time?' _There must be some sort of scar on his hand… no, it cannot be him, it just… _There was nothing that did not fit. All of the evidence, all that she had just been told by her best friend seemed to fit and lead back to her father, Erik.

"Who was the woman that attacked my mother?" Carrie asked, she did not think that anything would be able to shock her now that she had just learned that her father was more than likely the Phantom.

"One of the Patron's I think… her name was… oh god what was her name? I think her name was…" She seemed to be thinking very deeply, obviously thinking that the conversation was calming Carrie down somewhat rather than making her even angrier, "…something beginning with C… Catherine! That was the one! Catherine Beaumont…"

This was the kick in the ribs for Carrie. If she remembered correctly then Catherine Beaumont was the name of Zurie's stepmother, the one that she did not want to speak about due to something very bad which Carrie did not know about. _She will be the first person I am going to have to have a word with I think then… _She thought to herself, she was trying to think why Zurie had not told her any of this herself.

She turned round to walk the opposite way down the hall to the way which she and Andrea had just been walking. "Where are you going?" Andrea called after her, wondering what on earth she had said to upset her so much.

"I have to go and talk with someone. I have just remembered something very important that I need to discuss…" Carrie was amazed at how she managed to come up with such a convincing excuse so quickly. She knew it was convincing as Andrea did not question her any further, if it were not convincing she could have.

Carrie did not know what she was going to do to find Zurie. Perhaps she would find her in her room. After all there were no rehearsals at the moment and so the chances were that she would be trying to learn all of the songs that she had to learn as she was the Prima Donna.

She was not sure why she wanted to go and talk to her before she talked to her own father. Perhaps she wanted to just to be sure of her suspicions, or perhaps it was to try and understand things more so that she did not go mad at Erik when she returned home.

-

"So how did it go?" Christine asked Erik, obviously referring to him going and giving his opera to the managers.

"Surprisingly well, but…" He had just though of how the managers had acted when he had gone to see them. He knew of course that they were not going to be overly thrilled to see him, but something that they said had been bugging him for quite a while, "…they were acting very strangely… well, stranger than usual."

Christine smiled. She knew just how eccentric the two managers were. "Is that really possible for them?" She joked, which to her great surprise annoyed Erik somewhat.

"Please Christine listen, when I walked into the room and made myself known they said… oh what was it they said? They said 'Oh no, not again, what have we done this time'… or something like that…" He paced over to the other side of the study which they were in, "…I mean, does that make any sense, we have not spoken for eighteen years, and the last time I spoke to them they had not done anything wrong."

"I see…" Christine said, thinking, "…and there was really no way of them to tell that it was you?"

Erik shook his head. "No, none, in fact they actually looked quite shocked when I lowered my hood to show them that it was me. So then why would they say something like that?"

Christine shrugged. She did not have any idea why they would do this. "Perhaps they are just going mad in their old age…"

"No…" Erik said, "…I disagree with that, it doesn't seem right. I think that there is something spooking them even more than I used to, and call me immodest if you want but that is saying something isn't it?"

Christine let out a small chuckle. She did think that it would be quite difficult for something or someone to scare the managers even more than Erik did during his long stay at the Opera House. They stood there opposite each other, both trying to think of who or what this thing could be, if indeed there was anything, for all they knew they were just going mad.

"Draconosis…" Erik muttered, loud enough for Christine to hear him very clearly, "…perhaps they are interfering with things that are going on in the Populaire, just like I used too…"

Christine could see where Erik was coming from, yet thought that this was probably a very unlikely solution to the conundrum that they were facing. "Yes but Erik they are a bunch of assassins and so why would they want to meddle with things at the Opera House?"

Erik did not seem to agree with her. He was going to stand by his theory of them interfering at the Populaire. "Perhaps they are doing it for some sort of profit or something… I mean they did do all of those false letters just so they could get the salary that I used to get…"

"Yes perhaps, but they must already be extremely wealthy…" Christine said, trying to make Erik see reason even though she was privately agreeing with what it was he was suggesting.

"Yes but those that have lots of money always want more. No matter how much it is they have…" Christine decided that the best thing to do would be to give up trying to argue with him.

She was pretty sure herself that Erik was right, even though she did not want to admit this to him as he might become a little bit obsessed with them again. There was really nothing they could do about the whole thing, they would just have to wait and see if whatever it was that was scaring the managers would be discovered.

"Perhaps I should go back to the Opera house for a while and see…"

"No…" Christine cut him off, she had been expecting some crazy idea like this, "…I don't want you to go back to that old life of yours for something you do not even know is happening."

Erik did not say anything. He did not want to argue with Christine about this, yet did not want to not go back to the Populaire either. He was like a cat. Curiosity always got the better of him. Unlike a cat however he was going to listen to Christine and not go back to the Populaire. He did not want to upset the woman he loved over something so stupid.

"Ok…" He said to her, trying to make it clear that he was not going to go back, "…I will not go back, but if anything should happen that involves Draconosis with the Populaire then I am going to, no matter what."

Christine knew that there would be no changing his mind in this and so decided to just leave it at that with no further argument. She went through to the kitchen to fill up the cats' food and drink bowls, knowing that there would be a lot of loud meowing if she did not.

"Where is Jake?" Erik asked, only now noticing that he was not in the house.

"No idea, probably out looking for a job that is a little bit closer to home." Christine was sure that this was what he was doing. After all there was not much else he could be doing at the moment as he had no job.

"Good on him, maybe he will let us know what it is this time rather than keep it from us out of embarrassment…" Erik said, trying not to make himself angry with Jake.

"I am sure he won't, you never know he may even be in an interview for one even now."

_I doubt he is Christine… _Erik thought to himself, he did not know why he thought this yet was sure that he was more than likely right.

-

Carrie knocked on Zurie's door. "Come in…" She was very glad that she was in her room. She did not think that she would have been up to searching round the entire Opera House looking for her as this would have just annoyed her a great deal.

She opened the door and walked in. Zurie seemed to be able to tell immediately that she was in some kind of bad mood. Carrie walked over to the bed where Zurie was sitting and stood in front of her.

"Erik Destler was the composer of 'Don Juan Triumphant', wasn't he?" She asked. Zurie was not expecting her to say this, and if she had her way she would not know this.

She was trying to decide whether or not she was going to confirm Carrie's statement. In the end she decided that it would be a much better idea to just tell the truth rather than to tell lies. After all if she told a lie and then it was confirmed as the truth later by someone else Carrie would probably hate her forever and if not forever for a very long time.

"Yes… he was…" Zurie said, obviously she wanted the conversation to be a much more happy one rather than a miserable one like this, "…is that a problem?"

Zurie knew from the moment she asked this that it was the wrong thing to ask entirely. "Of course it is a problem! You are telling me that my father is the 'Phantom of the Opera'…"

"Was the 'Phantom of the Opera' Carrie, that life is far behind him now…" Zurie tried to re-assure her that he was no longer haunting the Opera House.

"…does that make any difference? You are still telling me that my father was a cold blooded merciless killer!" Carrie was letting all of the emotion that had been building up inside of her flood out in one wave of anger. She had wanted to do this ever since Andrea had said that he was the composer of 'Don Juan Triumphant', the Opera that her father had shown her so long ago.

"Carrie if you cannot accept who you father was then what kind of a daughter does that make you!?" This made Carrie feel extremely guilty, yet not quite enough to make her forget why she was having this argument. "He is my step brother… did you know that? And when I found that out he was still the 'Phantom of the Opera'…"

This new piece of information took Carrie completely by surprise. "How is he your step brother?"

Zurie was trying to think of the best way to answer this. "Did you not know that his mother was Catherine Beaumont? She was my step mother, meaning that Erik is my step brother. Understand?"

Everything seemed to be happening all at once for Carrie. "When did you find out you were related to him?" She asked, trying to make the conversation a bit friendlier than when it had started.

"When I was twelve…" Zurie answered.

_That must have been one hell of a thing to take in when you were twelve… _Carrie thought to herself, her anger had died down quite a lot now.

"When I found out I was not angry like you are now. You are his daughter and you can't accept it…" Carrie now felt extremely guilty, and for good reason, after all if a step sister can accept it and a daughter can't then what kind of a relationship was that between father and daughter?

"Maybe I was just being a bit too rash…" Carrie said out loud. Zurie made it clear by the look on her face that she agreed with her, "…but still, why did he not tell me himself?"

Zurie did not know how to answer this. "Perhaps he was afraid that you would react the way you are now. Perhaps he was afraid that he would lose his daughter if he did… or perhaps you should ask him yourself…"

Carrie thought that this would be a good idea. She had calmed down an awful lot now and so she would be able to go and speak to her father in a much better way than she would have about fifteen minutes ago.

"Do you want me to come with you?" Zurie asked, obviously trying to be as polite and helpful as possible so as to keep Carrie in her calm state.

"No…" Carrie replied, yet not in a rude way, "…I would rather go and speak to him on my own. What would he think if you were with me? He would think that you told me wouldn't he?"

Zurie nodded and then she got up and went over to the dresser in the corner of her room. She opened the drawer and took something out of it. "I don't want you to think that I was stealing from you Carrie, but Erik would have wanted this to be kept safe…"

She held the music box out for Carrie to take. She took it from her and then looked over at her for an explanation. "Why did you take it?"

"Erik did not get a chance to take this with him when he left the Populaire, and he asked me to hold on to it if anybody ever found it… I think he will be pleased to see it again…"

Zurie went back over to the bed and sat back down on it. She picked up the script and started to look through it again. "I am going to take a guess that he did not tell you what the name of his newest opera was?"

Carrie shook her head. "Let me guess, this is his as well?"

"Precisely." Zurie replied and then she went back to trying to learn all of her lines and songs. Carrie left and headed for the entrance of the Populaire, then stopped, she had to see something before she left.

She walked briskly in the direction of the managers' office, knocked on the door once she got there and waited. Firmin opened the door very slightly, not enough so she could walk in.

"I was just wondering if you have found the Opera that I wanted yet monsieur…" She was sure that he would more than likely have not given it a thought yet she was surprised.

Firmin looked as though he was expecting this. "One moment Miss Daae…" He closed the door, and Carrie heard footsteps, a few seconds later the door opened again and Firmin handed her the leather bound folder with gold letters showing the name 'Don Juan Triumphant'.

"Thank you…" Carrie said, Firmin then closed the door and Carrie turned to leave the Populaire and head home.

-

"So we are agreed that it is definitely Draconosis?" Erik asked. Christine did not need to answer to let him know that her answer was yes. "We still need to work out why…"

"Erik I do not want you becoming obsessed…again!" Christine did not know whether she was amused by his obsession or annoyed. "Why don't you just start working on your next opera?"

There was a knock at the door. Christine went to answer it but did not check using the spy window to see who it was. This did not really matter however, as it was Carrie who was at the door, looking very sullen about something.

"Hello…" She said to them. She walked in through the door and went over to sit at the kitchen table.

"Are you alright?" Christine asked, knowing that this was a stupid question as she obviously was upset about something.

"I am fine…" She placed what she was holding on the table which made Erik's heart skip a beat, "…I was asked to return this to you father…"

Erik walked over to the table and wound up the music box which Carrie had placed on the table on top of the Don Juan Triumphant. It then started to play the merry tune that Carrie had heard it play so many times before, Erik then started to sing a couple of lines of a song that neither Christine or Carrie had ever heard before.

**Masquerade… Paper faces on Parade**

**Masquerade… Hide your face so the world will never find you…**

"Where did you get these?" Erik asked, dreading what the answer was going to be.

"Your old home…" Carrie answered, not sure how Erik was going to react when he found out that she knew he was the Phantom.

"I'm sorry…" He said, before she even had chance to have a go at him so he had to say sorry to her, "…I am so sorry that I did not tell you to begin with. It was my fault. I am stupid for not…"

Carrie put her arms round her father, trying to let him know that she did not care anymore that he had been the Phantom. "Believe it or not it was Andrea that sort of told me… she said about Don Juan and the Phantom composing it."

Erik chuckled a very nervous chuckle as they released each other. Christine did not know if it would be a good idea for her to say anything in this conversation. "That is lucky, I thought that it would have been lost in the fire…" She said, picking up the Don Juan.

"I have another copy… I just did not show you because I thought it would bring back too many bad memories…" Erik said, feeling guilty for not telling her. Carrie did not want to let him change the subject though.

"And I know what is beneath that glove…" Carrie said, this did not really shock Erik at all, he assumed that she would have gone to Zurie to see if she knew that he was the Phantom. "Can I see?"

Erik did not answer, he did not think it would be a good idea to let her see the infected hand, yet thought it would only be fair as he had kept so much from her for so long. He removed the glove, revealing a very scarred hand, as though somebody had cut it with a knife roughly.

"The shot had caused an infection… the doctor lied when he said that it would heal just fine…" He looked as though he was getting very angry at this doctor who had told him this lie.

Carrie could only imagine how much pain her father must have been going through all of his life. "So why did your own mother shoot you?"

Erik did not know where to begin, there were so many places that he could start at yet he thought the best place would be at his childhood.

"Perhaps you should come through into the living room and sit down…" He said. Both Carrie and Christine did so, Christine thought that this was probably going to be exactly like the time he had relived his nightmares for her.

She did not know how he was going to cope with explaining everything again, especially to his own daughter. _For all I know he was going to have to say it again after this to Jake when he comes home, I can't imagine him wanting to keep it from him if he tells Carrie… _She was not sure if Erik would be able to cope or not if he had to go through the whole thing not once, but two times.

They all sat down in three different comfortable arm chairs. Christine was next to Erik and Carrie was sitting opposite them. "Ok…" Erik said, trying to think of what he was going to say first, "…I think it is only fair that you know everything that I have kept from you Carrie, it is only fair since I have kept it for so long…" He sounded as though he thought this was going to be a very difficult thing to do.

_I really hope that you are Ok with doing this Erik. I don't want to see you break down like you did all those years ago when you explained everything to me… _Christine thought, but then she could do nothing but listen to everything that Erik was saying to their daughter, Carrie.


	29. Pawns on a Chessboard

Sobs alot this is the last time sniff you are going to have to look forward to the next chapter, as the sniff next chapter is the last chapter...anywho...over 100k words now! Enjoy the second to last chapter...

* * *

Chapter 29- Pawns on a Chessboard

There was only one week left before the performance of 'Fires of Eden'. The time had passed extremely quickly for everyone, which was very annoying as everybody felt they did not have enough time anyway. It was that annoying feeling of when you wanted time to pass slowly it sped up, and when you wanted time to pass quickly it always seemed to slow down.

The amount of late night rehearsals that had been taking place was ridiculous. There were not only late night rehearsals either. They were also having to rehearse on Sundays, which was meant to be their day off. Everybody was fuming with the managers, yet who could blame them, they had not given them such a ridiculous time space to learn an opera in for eighteen years, and even then they hoped that that was going to be the last time.

"I think we are going to earn ourselves the title of the most hated managers of the Populaire if we keep this up for much longer." Firmin admitted to André. This thought had been on his mind ever since they had told everyone about the one month that they had to get the Opera ready and polished to perfection.

"I think you may be right there my good friend…" André agreed. He did not like the thought of everybody being glad to see the back of them but could not see how they were meant to change people's opinions of them. After all if they said anything to anybody about Draconosis then they would be killed with no second thoughts from the people that did it.

"Perhaps when this is all over we should have another Masquerade ball?" Firmin suggested, thinking that this worked wonders the last time they had done it, and would probably work again.

"That is if we are still here when this production has finished. Who knows, everyone may be looking for some other people to run the Populaire even as we speak…" André said. Firmin thought that this was a very unlikely thing to be happening. It was just André making something up to keep his mind off Draconosis, in his opinion.

"Well…" Firmin began, wondering if they should do what he was about to say, "…I suppose we should go down and oversee the rehearsals. At least then people will know that we are doing our job…"

André did not answer. It was as though he would rather just stay in their office and wither away than go and face everyone. "When was the last time any of them had a decent break?"

This question seemed to put everything into perspective for Firmin. "Good point, they probably think that we are in here getting drunk or something…"

Neither of the managers could honestly say that they would blame anyone for thinking something like this but the thought still was an upsetting one. "If they knew what it was we were going through then we would be fine… they would understand anyway."

"If you want to go and tell them and get us both killed then be my guest!" Firmin spat at him, obviously in a rage with André for even considering the matter of telling everyone how they were being threatened.

"I was not saying that we should tell them…" André said hastily, putting a particular emphasis on the word 'should', "…I was just saying that they would understand if we did tell them…"

Firmin did not say anything to this. He seemed to be much too upset to argue. He wondered if the production would even go down very well. About one week ago to his horror he found out that the opening performance was sold out, meaning that it was going to be another full house. He did not know why it had so much popularity, after all it wasn't an Opera anyone had heard of before as it was one of the Phantom's.

"I have the feeling that these Draconosis people have something against the Phantom…" André said and then realised just how obvious this must have been anyway.

"You don't say!" Firmin said sarcastically, putting a hand across his mouth as though shocked by the news. This infuriated André, "… now tell me André… why are we hated so much?"

André was now getting very angry with his colleague. He did not know why he had stated the obvious like that. He supposed that they were both thinking it so he may as well be the first one to say it out loud.

"I was only saying…" André began, now in a bit of a mood, "…I still don't see why they would want to use us to get to him…"

"Hmmm…" Began Firmin with an expression of mock thought plastered across his face, "…let's think… he came to us and asked us to put on his most recently written opera. Now correct me if I am wrong, André, but does that not look as though we are quite well connected to him?"

André could see exactly what he meant. Now that he thought about it they had probably had more contact with the Phantom than most people could say they had. That would make them the prime targets for people who wanted to know more about, or get close to, the Phantom.

Firmin got up and walked to a cupboard that stood in the corner of the room. "What are you doing?" André asked him, not knowing why he had gone over there all of a sudden.

"Well…" Firmin said, taking something out of the cupboard and then closing it, "…this is going to seem like a very random question that just came out of the blue, but I need to ask you something…"

"Being?" André asked, still in quite a bit of a mood with him.

Firmin placed what it was he was carrying down on the table. "Would you like to have a game of chess?"

-

"One week…" The boss said to Glacier who had, as she had hoped, become first in command, "…do you think that we will be ready by then?"

"Well, yes…" Glacier replied, obviously confident in her own abilities as an assassin, "…why shouldn't we be? I mean I am far better than Crimson was by a mile…"

The boss thought that she was being quite full of herself for no good reason. He went over to the chair in his chamber and sat down, thinking. Glacier still had not seen what type of mask he wore, which was amazing as she had been first in command and therefore around him more often for the best part of a month now.

"Can I ask something important please sir…" She said to him, as a thought just came across her mind which she saw as quite annoying not to know, "…who was Crimson Nightshade? I mean I took off his mask but his face was still in shadow, and he has never said who he is… and now that he is dead."

"I am afraid Glacier that I cannot tell you that…" He said, not wanting to answer her, "…you should have asked Jacques when he was still alive. He after all was the one who recruited him."

"Yes but surely you know!?" Glacier asked. She was annoyed with herself for not lowering his hood when she took off his mask to slap him.

"Of course I do, but I cannot tell you if I want to keep this organisation safe…" He informed her.

_That must mean that he was someone very important when he was alive… _She thought to herself but then she thought that he could not have been that important if the boss had thrown him in the Liars Labyrinth himself.

"Why can't you tell me? I mean he is dead now after all…" She asked him but thought that she must be trying her luck by pushing him into telling her something he did not want to.

"That is for me to know and for you to hopefully never find out. You see, as much as you did not like him in life he was a valuable asset to the group and even now he is dead he is still a valuable asset, only in a different way…" This seemed to be enough to stop Glacier from asking any more irritating questions that he did not want to answer.

"Ok… is there anything else that needs to be done before we strike?" She asked. Glacier had of course been asked to assist the boss in the assassination of the Phantom but had not been entirely sure of what needed doing in preparation for it.

"Nothing that I can think of right at this very moment…" He replied, getting up from his chair and moving over to the door of his chamber, "…though I am not sure if we are going to be able to do this with just the two of us…"

Glacier seemed to be shocked at these last few words. "Oh come on sir! You are probably the strongest out of all of us and I am second strongest. Surely we will be enough to kill the Opera Ghost…" She tried to think of something to reassure him that they would not fail, "…he must be quite old by now. I would be able to do it on my own if you let me…"

"You are wrong in several different ways…" The boss told her, making her fall completely silent, "…Crimson was the strongest out of all of us, and if he were alive then we may just be able to do it…now that he is gone though it could be much more difficult than I had hoped…"

Glacier seemed to be in a state of shock at the boss's lack of faith. "Are you regretting killing him?"

"I don't think he deserved to die…" The boss admitted, making Glacier scoff, "…now listen to me, nobody who has told a lie has managed to get out of the Labyrinth. They had been too preoccupied with the thoughts of their lie… When you went in there you had not lied, meaning that you made it out. When Crimson went in there he got out, just with a spider on his shoulder…"

"Meaning that he was lying and therefore deserved to die…" It was as though Glacier was trying to gain a higher status than the boss himself by proving him wrong.

The boss looked as though he was about to hit her, yet he did not seem the type to hurt women. "You are going to have to remember your place before disagreeing with me…"

Glacier did not say another word. She did not dare say another word for fear of being thrown in the Labyrinth again. They stood there looking at each other for a few minutes in total silence, then at last the boss seemed to find something to say.

"I want you to go back to the Populaire and make sure that the rehearsals are going smoothly… after all if there were no rehearsals there would be no production, and no production means no Phantom…" He told her, trying to stay calm even though he was quite annoyed with her, "…and no Phantom means no money…"

Glacier nodded at him and then made her way over to the door. She did not know why she had just had a little argument with the boss but now she knew that it would be a very bad idea to do so again. He was not the sort of person you wanted to get on the wrong side of.

She was very annoyed with herself for losing Crimson's mask. If there was anything that would have lifted her spirits a bit then it would have been looking at it and reminding herself that he was dead, and never coming back. She had tried to find it after she had lost it but had no success. The only thing that bothered her about this was not knowing who had taken it.

-

There was a very mixed mood among the Daae-Destler family. There seemed to be an air of sorrow about everyone, and the reason why was certainly not a mystery.

"There is still a chance that he will come home… I mean I doubt anything bad has happened to him. It would have been in the papers if it had…" Erik said. There was no need to either Christine or Carrie to ask who he was talking about.

"But he has not even said anything to us about… anything…" Carrie said, sounding extremely concerned, "…and he has been gone for nearly a month, police could just easily assume that he is…"

"Don't you dare say that he is dead!" Christine cut her off, there had been several times where Carrie had been about to say this, and as much as Christine was trying to think of how this could not be true the probability was that it was. "He can't be dead, he is much more careful than that…"

"But then again what else could have happened?" Erik asked, as though trying to prove a point that this was a very likely thing to have happened to him. "Jake goes away one day and then doesn't return, and as Carrie said, he has been gone for nearly a month…"

Christine could not help but burst into tears. Erik moved over to kneel in front of where she was sitting and put his arms round her. "He can't be dead… it would have been in the papers…"

Erik did not know what to say to cheer her up, there was nothing really he could say. _Yes, but what if nobody knew that he was dead? It would not be in the papers then would it? He would just be forgotten somewhere… _Erik felt a tear run down his face, he was not sure what to think himself.

All he could do was try to have faith in Jake. He kept telling himself that he must have found a job somewhere and had to go for an interview urgently. This job could be very far away, meaning that he could be travelling back home even as they discussed him at that very moment.

"Shall I go to the police and ask if they can search for him?" Carrie asked, trying to say something that would be slightly positive and helpful to the situation at hand.

"No… they would only say that we had to report it earlier…" Christine said, making herself even more miserable than she already did, "…they would say 'you would have to report it within twenty four hours after finding out that he was missing'…"

They were all silent. Carrie and Erik knew that this was more than likely going to be a very good guess as to what they would say. Carrie did not look as though she was going to give up being positive though.

"They don't have to know that we have known he was missing for this long…" She thought that this may shed a little bit of light on the subject, but it did not appear to do so.

"Oh you do what you like Carrie…" Christine said. She did not really seem to care what happened any more. She seemed to have convinced herself that Jake was dead, "…just do what you like, though I doubt that it will make the slightest bit of difference at all…"

Carrie did not want to stay in the room while her mother was in such a bad mood. She did not care what she said. She was going to go to the police and see if they did know anything about him, though in the back of her mind she knew that it was more likely that they would know nothing.

"Do cheer up Christine…" Erik said to her, not really knowing what else he could say. Carrie had left, both Christine and Erik could hear the door shut behind her, "…there is no point getting upset about something you do not even know has happened, is there?"

Christine shook her head. "No… I suppose you are right, I am just being so stupid…" She continued to sob into Erik's shoulder, and he continued to try and cheer her up a bit.

"'Fires of Eden' will be on in one week… perhaps he is going to go and see that. I mean he does know that I wrote it. Chances are he will hear about it and go and see it, right?" This seemed to do the trick and give Christine the hope she needed.

She looked up and Erik with a big smile on her face. "I will go and make us a cup of tea shall I?"

Christine nodded, then noticed just how dry her throat was from all the crying that she had been doing. They went through into the kitchen. Christine sat down in one of the chairs at the table, and Erik went over to the range to set the kettle to boil.

"What do you think I should wear to the performance?" Christine asked.

_Now that sounds more like the happy, carefree Christine that I know! _Erik thought to himself triumphantly, glad that she was able to take her mind off of Jake at last. "Well…" He began, putting on an expression of mock thought, earning him a playful swat over the head from Christine, "…ouch. Why don't you wear what you have always worn to the productions that have been on at the Populaire?"

Christine chuckled. "That would be the sensible thing to do wouldn't it?" She seemed to notice just how silly her question must have sounded. She had after all worn the same thing every time she had seen a performance.

She and Erik had seen a lot of performances at the Populaire, this was mainly because of Carrie, yet also they had been requested to go and see it by Zurie, as she was more often than not singing the leading part.

-

"Check…" Firmin said to André as he took out one of André's bishops with his knight.

"Damn…" André said to himself, having just moved his bishop to take out one single pawn, an in doing so had just lost it.

"Losing your concentration are you André?" Firmin was very happy with himself for this amazing move of his. This was the first time ever in their entire lives that they had played a game of chess against each other.

André moved his rook in a castle kingside move so as to get out of check. "No, I always have a back up for every move I make…" He informed Firmin, as though very happy with getting out of check so easily.

Firmin moved one of his pawns which had not moved yet forwards two spaces. He waited for André to make his move, then thought of something that sounded very cryptic. "I suppose this is what we have turned into now…" He said, pointing at the pawn that he had just moved.

"Why do you say that?" André asked, taking out the pawn with one of his own pawns which was diagonal to it.

"Well, all we are doing is assisting the king and queen in winning…" He said, pointing at his king and his queen.

There was a clap of thunder, followed by a flash of lightening. Neither of them had realised just how long they had been playing the game for but did not seem to care either. It was now very dark outside…

"You are referring to the woman in white and Crimson Nightshade aren't you?" André asked, knowing that this was more than likely the case.

"Of course I am. They want us to help them take out the Phantom… making us pawns…" Firmin did not like the thought of this but tried to concentrate on the game nevertheless.

He moved his rook to take the pawn that André had just moved. This put him back in check. Firmin did not feel the need to say this however, it would be impossible to miss it.

"I have a proposition to make…" André said, moving his king one space to the right to get himself out of check, "…how about after this first performance we do what Reyer did after 'Don Juan'. In other words we leave…"

Firmin did not really like the thought of this. After all they had been at the Opera House for at least twenty years now and he thought that it would be very sad to part with it now.

"I suppose we could but…" He moved his queen so that it was diagonal with the king, "…check."

"Bu what?" André asked, he thought that it would be good to seek another business elsewhere, not stay here to be threatened by a league of assassins.

"Do we have to? I mean come on André, we have spent a very large part of our lives here. Why should we leave because of some people who want to take out a madman who was once a murderer?"

It was André's turn to put on an expression of mock thought now. "Because we have had our lives threatened, is that a good enough reason!?" Firmin could see that this was going to be the main reason, and to be fair it was a very good reason for wanting to leave.

"People would probably cheer us on our way…" Firmin said, looking very sad at this thought. André moved his second bishop in the way of the king so that he was no longer in check.

"Yes they would, but would people really want us to stay now anyway?" André was determined to get away from the Opera Populaire. He had seen enough of it to last him through six lifetimes before wanting to see it again.

"I suppose not…" Firmin admitted, and then he took out the bishop with the same knight that had taken out the last one. This however did not put him in check, "…but maybe we should wait for Draconosis to disappear, at least then we can explain why we gave them this time period…"

André scoffed. "And how do you know that this lot are going to disappear?" Firmin did not know how he was meant to know this, he did not know what the truth was, and he never would know, all he could do was hope that they would go.

"It would be better for all of Paris if they did go wouldn't it…?" Firmin said, knowing that this was a very obvious thing to ask. There would be more cheer in France if they were gone.

André moved his queen to take out the knight, Firmin cursed under his breath for not spotting this. "Check…" This annoyed him even more, he did not see that this would put him in check.

He moved his own queen directly one square in front of his king, meaning that if André took it with his queen he would lose it. André seemed to notice this, and therefore moved one of his pawns forward.

"We will just have to wait and see what happens after the performance won't we?" Firmin asked, and then noticed something. He got up and put on his coat as though he was going to go home.

"Where are you going?" André asked him, looking at the board, "…we have not finished the game yet…" He did not want to just leave it like this, he wanted to finish it, and he wanted to beat Firmin. After all he was so close to winning

Firmin let out a very small chuckle, then leant down and took out André's queen with his bishop. André looked at the board, and then slapped himself on the forehead with his right hand. "Checkmate…"


	30. The Final Threshold

The last chapter... which also happens to be the longest chapter that has ever been written in the two books! So, everyone enjoy the very long conclusion to 'Destiny's Curse'...

* * *

Chapter 30- The Final Threshold 

Everybody was now in a state of utter panic. Nobody could honestly say that they were completely ready for the performance that was going to be taking place in no less than three hours. The Orchestra were rehearsing, frequent mistakes were being made and then harshly corrected by Jean. The dancers were becoming a nightmare. All of them were trying to do moves which were much too complicated for them. They kept asking Jennifer to go over the really difficult ones with them over and over again.

The managers were nowhere to be seen at the moment. People assumed that they were in their office, probably praying that the performance was going to go well. Everybody who thought this hated them for giving them such a short time in the first place. Nobody could see the logic in giving them one month. Carrie was ready for the performance as she had been being tutored by her father, who happened to be the composer.

Zurie could safely say that she had mastered all of the songs, and was very happy to have done so. She was used to the type of music that Erik wrote, meaning that this was not really a huge task for her. Everyone was amazed at how Zurie and Carrie could learn such complex things in such a short time, and it was clear that the chorus were all jealous of them.

"And again please gentlemen!" Called Jean as the orchestra rearranged all of their music. "After four… one, two, three, four…"

They struck up the opening bars of the opera. They sounded quite good, but still there was the odd mistake here and there which made Jean very annoyed with all of them. The dancers were on stage going through all of the dances step by step, one by one. Jennifer looked over at Jean.

"I don't suppose you could run through the opening song for act two could you?" She called over the orchestra to him.

"Silence everyone…" He called to his musicians, "…what was that Jennifer?" He could not hear her the first time over the music that had been playing.

"I said can you please run through the opening song for act two?" She called even louder, though this was not necessary now that the orchestra were not playing.

"Certainly…" He called back, he knew that his musicians would not be happy with this however, "…you heard the lady gentlemen, act two song one…"

They rearranged their music yet again so that they were all looking at the first song. They played the opening bars and Jennifer's dancers began to attempt the routine to it. It was a very difficult thing to do, when they had been running through it step by step they had been going much slower than the song actually was.

When the song came to an end several of the dancers fell to the floor in exhaustion. "Oh please, you call yourselves dancers? Get up! You cannot do this tonight can you?"

The ones that had fell to the floor got to their feet in a hurry, not wanting to annoy Jennifer. They were all breathing very heavily. The dance was so fast that they could not believe that they were all still conscious. In the early days of rehearsals several of them actually had passed out due to exhaustion but they had improved in stamina since then, even though it had only been a month.

"Thank you for that Jean…" She said to him.

"Don't mention it Jennifer." He replied, and then told his orchestra to go back to the song that they had been on before they had been requested to do that song for her.

Jennifer went back to the step by step run through. She was not doing this for very long however before the stage managers came on stage. "Managers have given us permission to check the set. We don't want anything collapsing do we?"

Everyone turned very sour at the mention of the managers and yet no one said anything about them. Nobody really needed to however, it was common knowledge that the only people who were happy about the short preparation period were the stage managers, and they after all had the set done within weeks anyway.

The Orchestra continued to play their music but the dancers had to get off of the stage for a while so that it could be checked. Jenifer decided that this would be a good opportunity for her to go and have a nice friendly chat with the managers. She had been wanting to do so for some time now, but had always been to busy rehearsing.

She knocked four times on the door when she got there. "Come in…" She did not hesitate to do so.

Jennifer was very surprised to see that the managers looked as though they wanted the earth to swallow them up. She would have thought that they would have been happy with the progress that had been made. To be sure it was not perfect yet, but nothing ever was perfect.

"Are you disappointed with what we have achieved?" She asked them, they did not need to ask why she asked such a question.

"We are very happy for what you have achieved." Firmin replied, sounding deadly serious. "We are just not feeling one hundred percent at the moment Jennifer…"

She could not truthfully say that she felt sorry for them but was in a better mood with them than she would have been about two weeks ago. Jennifer now felt a little bit out of place. She had come here to have a go at them for the ridiculous time scale and yet now that she saw them like this she felt guilty for even considering this.

"Is there anything in particular you wanted to say to us?" André asked, looking as though he was about to pass out.

"Umm, not really…" She said, then she could not help herself and went on to ask, "…has someone just died or something because you two look dreadful."

"Thank you very much…" Firmin replied to her sarcastically, giving a smirk when he had said it, "…you look very well yourself."

Jennifer looked as though she was about to leave, so André thought that it would be best to say something. "Like Firmin said earlier, we are just not feeling one hundred percent. Things have happened that have just dampened our spirits…"

"No one has died though have they?" She asked, just to be sure that she had not offended them by saying this earlier.

"Good heavens no…" Firmin said, trying not to laugh at the apologetic tone that was clear in her voice, "…you will be the first we have told this to, but we think that we are going to resign after this performance…"

Jennifer had not been expecting this. "But why?" She asked, she could not say that she hated the managers for what they had done. It was only a one off thing after all.

"We are sick of all of this…" André replied, "…and we are pretty sure that everyone is sick of us and so we are going to do everyone a favour and take our leave."

Jennifer could not say that she was sick of them. On the contrary from what she heard they must have been the best managers that the Populaire had ever seen.

"People are not sick of you…" She informed them, trying to put up a good strong reason for why they should stay and continue to run the Populaire like they had done for twenty years.

"It doesn't make any difference my dear…" Firmin replied, getting up and moving over to the table where the chessboard still lay, "…this job has just become far too much for us to handle, and I think that it is best if we leave it to a younger and more able person…"

Jennifer could not see the logic in this. A younger person would not have the experience in managing that they had and so what was the point in giving it to someone younger?

"Messieurs I cannot agree with you…" They did not seem to be listening to her.

Firmin knocked over the white king on the chessboard. "I am afraid that this is game over for us Jennifer… You had better get back to you rehearsals…"

Jennifer thought that she would probably cry if they left, but managed to contain herself. She left the managers' office to go back to her dancers. She had absolutely no intention of letting anyone know that the managers were resigning, so she tried her best to act as if everything was normal.

-

"You do know that this idea of yours is mad don't you?" A figure asked someone who appeared to be a very important person.

"Mad is always a very good place to start. You can never be a sane person and get very far in life…" The figure was about to reply to this but did not get the chance, "…nobody got anywhere by thinking small. You should know that by now…"

"I guess so…" The figure did not think that this was necessarily a true statement, "…and what are the chances of success?"

"I would say…" The important man began, "…quite damn high, it is like drawing poison from a wound if you know what I mean?"

"Yes I know what you mean, but that does not mean that we are going to succeed does it?" The important person seemed to be very optimistic about what it was they were going to attempt to do.

"Everyone is in position, so there is really no need to worry…" He informed the figure, who did not seem to share his optimism.

"I am not worrying, I just want to be sure that everything is going to run smoothly…" He replied to the important looking man.

"Hey, hey, hey, where is the decent attitude? You do know that if we manage to pull this off then we will be very rich men don't you?"

_Of course I know this otherwise I would not be here doing this would I? _He thought to himself, fighting the very strong urge to say this out loud and make the important man feel like an idiot.

"What time are we leaving?" He asked, even though he was relatively sure he knew when having gone over the plan about ten times in his mind.

"Five, that should give us enough time to get there and be ready…" The figure was proved right, yet still this did not make much sense.

"We have to be there two hours early?" He asked, thinking that this was a bit of overkill.

"Better to be early and waiting around for ages than late and rushing to get what you want done out of the way…" He replied, his optimism was obviously kicking in again. This annoyed the figure a great deal.

"Well, that means that we only have fifteen minutes then…" He said, gesturing over at the clock on the wall which showed that it was quarter to five.

"Good lord! I had better go and tell everyone…" The important man exclaimed. He then ran from the room to go and tell everyone who was going with them to be ready in fifteen minutes.

This left the figure alone to his own thoughts… _You do not seem to know how dangerous this is going to be you fool. It may not be very dangerous on your part but for me it is life threatening. _

The important man returned in what seemed like no time at all. "Well, are you ready then? Have you got everything?"

He hated it when he asked more that one question at a time. "Yes and yes, and could you please stop acting as though you are the king of France? It is very off putting…"

The important looking man had been bouncing around as though he had just been to his own coronation. He stopped as soon as he had been told this however. He must have realised that he looked like a bit of an idiot when he was in this sort of mood.

"How long should it take us to get there?" The figure asked, thinking that it would take at least fifteen minutes to do so.

"Not sure, that is one of the reasons why I wanted to leave early…" The important man replied, almost skipping as they left through the door of that massive building to head to their destination.

"Fat lot of good you are…" The figure muttered to himself.

"What was that?" The important man asked, taking the figure by surprise as he did not think that he would have been able to hear him.

"Nothing, nothing, I was just going over the plan out loud…" He did not want to risk his job. He had been doing it for too long to be fired now.

-

"Are you ready my love?" Erik called up to the bedroom. He was anxiously waiting to leave for the Populaire.

"Just a minute…" Christine called back from the top of the stairs, making it clear that she had left the bedroom. She reached the bottom of the stairs a matter of seconds after that, "…I don't suppose you could put this on for me could you?"

She turned round so as to let him put on the necklace which she seemed to have been struggling with. It took him a surprisingly long time to do it himself, though this was mainly because his hand was playing up again.

"What time does it start?" She asked him, obviously not wanting to be late for his opera.

"Eight I think, so don't worry we have plenty of time to go there and get our seats… I had them reserved for us after all…" He informed her. Christine wondered where they were going to be sitting but was pretty sure she knew before she asked.

"Box five as usual right?" Erik nodded his head, even though he knew it was not necessary to do so as she knew already.

Erik seemed to be quite excited about the performance, and Christine was left with absolutely no doubt as to why that was. The last time that one of his operas was put on, which happened to be 'Don Juan', he had been overseeing the rehearsals, meaning that there were no surprises in what was going to happen. This time however he had left it completely in the hands of the opera staff, meaning that he was obviously excited about what it was going to be like.

"One thing I don't understand is why they only had a month to rehearse…" Erik said, thinking that this was a very strange thing of the managers to do. Then again the managers were going mad, so it must have just been a decision so as to get it out of the way.

Erik was sure however that the performance was still going to be as good as they always were, if not better. One thing that had been on his mind however was what had happened at his last Opera, in other words he had the impression that the place was going to catch fire again. He then thought logically and realised that this was going to be a very unlikely thing to happen.

"The managers must just have been drunk when they made that decision and now they cannot change it…" Christine said. Erik thought that this was a very unlikely thing to have happened, then realised that Christine was laughing.

"Ha, ha, ha, very funny…" He said to her, giving her a playful swat over the back of the head.

They left and started their long walk to the Opera House. It was still surprisingly light out, even thought it was nearly seven at night. Neither of them said anything during their long walk. It was only when they were walking along the street that the Populaire was on that Christine decided to speak.

"I wonder if Jake is going to be here tonight…" Erik was glad that she did not sound unhappy when she said this, "…it would be nice to see him again after he took off without a single word."

Christine then noticed something. She had put her arm around Erik's waist and noticed that something was attached to his belt.

"Do you really think that it is appropriate to have that?" She asked, not wanting to argue in the middle of a crowded street but still wanting to get this out of her system.

"You can never be too careful…" Erik said to her.

They then both walked up the stairs and into the Populaire. The performance

was due to start in half an hour…

-

"Places everyone, places!" The managers, called. Everybody was shooting them very evil looks as they did so. They all moved into their positions for the beginning of act one. None of them were at all confident that this was going to go down very well but all they could do was try their best, and if their best was not good enough then that was tough.

"Curtain up in two minutes…" Called one of the stage managers to all of them. None of them seemed to want to know this. It seemed to make all of them much more nervous than they already were.

"Scared Andrea?" Carrie asked her. This was quite an inappropriate question, it was very clear that Andrea was ready to run for the hills if she was given the chance.

"Sort of…" She answered, starting to shake violently. It took her around ten seconds before she started to calm down, which was lucky as the stage manager then called.

"Curtain up in one minute!" People were getting more and more nervous by the second, and this really was not helping them at all.

"Good luck Carrie…" Andrea whispered to her.

"Good luck yourself Andrea…" The curtain then rose, and all of the performers who were on the stage were staring at yet another full house, only this time not with the confidence that they usually had during a performance…

-

Erik and Christine were sitting in box five watching the performance. Erik seemed to be very pleased with what he was seeing, and so it seemed did everyone else who was watching. The performance got off to a very shaky start, but since everyone was enjoying it so much it seemed to be boosting their confidence as they went on.

Christine thought that the Opera itself was much more romantic than 'Don Juan' was. It was clear that Erik wanted to try something new. Christine thought that this style of opera suited him much more than the style of 'Don Juan' did however. It all seemed to flow much more smoothly than his first Opera did.

Act one was around one hour long, and when it had finished the audience gave them a standing ovation since they liked it so much. There was a break between acts, which was good as 'Fires of Eden' comprised of four, meaning that the audience would lose interest without a break.

"We had better be getting back to our seats…" Christine said as she checked the time to see how much more of a break they had left, "…it is brilliant so far!"

They wandered back to their seats in box five. They had just sat down when Erik looked as though something was wrong.

"What is the matter?" She asked, wondering what had upset him all of a sudden.

"Well…" He began as the curtain rose for the second act, then he whacked the space just behind his head with an incredible force and grabbed something which he could not see since he was looking forward, "…I don't really appreciate having a gun pointed at my head."

Erik turned round to see that he was holding the wrist of a woman who was dressed in white. Christine had to use all of her self control not to scream, people seemed not to notice that Erik was about to be shot.

He got to his feet and dragged the woman to the corridor outside the box. "Who are you!?" He spat at her, quietly though so that the people in the auditorium could not hear him.

"Let go of me you freak!" She spat back at him.

Christine seemed to have a sudden look of understanding on her face, as though seeing this woman had just allowed her to remember something. "She is the one who tried to brainwash me the day I found the lair of Draconosis…"

This was new news to Erik. He knew what she meant however, this explained what had happened to her the day she could not remember anything. Erik noticed a dagger on her waist and seized it. From what he could tell there was a poison smeared onto it.

"You are the one who killed Meg…" Said out loud, he recognized the scent of the poison of that which had been used to kill Meg.

Christine eyes seemed to flare when she heard this. "You…evil…" The woman in white laughed a cold laugh, she seized the knife from Erik, "…how about a taste of your own medicine you cold blooded witch!"

She stabbed her through her right had which Erik was holding. To her surprise she did not scream or shout, which Christine thought must have been a very difficult thing to do.

"You are dead…" She said to them, "…you think I am stupid enough to come here alone? You are dead and so is your precious daughter!"

Glacier then fell to the floor, lifeless. Erik checked her pulse to make sure that she was not faking. She was definitely dead however. Christine looked as though she wanted to unmask her but Erik ran off before she could do so.

"Where are you going!?" She called after him in a panic.

"To make sure that Carrie is safe!" He called over his shoulder, and then he made his way to the dressing rooms which were just offstage.

When he got there he was surprised to see that it was empty. They must have been at a part in his Opera where all of them were required to be onstage. People were starting to walk off though. Erik could tell that it was going to be the start of his most favourite song of the whole thing.

It was between Carrie, Zurie and the leading male whose name Erik did not know. It was only the lead male that was singing, and there was no way for Erik to signal to Carrie that she was in danger.

**No one would listen**

**No one but her**

**Heard as the Outcast hears…**

Erik did not know what he was meant to do, all he could do was wait for the second act to finish, which was not for a very long time, meaning that Carrie could be dead before he had the chance to save her.

**Shamed into Solitude**

**Shunned by the Multitude**

**I learned to listen**

**In my dark, my heart heard music…**

Erik was looking around wildly for the woman's accomplice, yet was unsuccessful in spotting anyone. He looked up at the bridges above the stage, no one was there, across to the other side of the stage and still he could see no-one.

**I longed to teach the world**

**Rise up and reach the world**

**No one would listen**

**I alone could feel the music…**

Erik looked behind him to see if anyone was going to sneak up on him but no one was there. Maybe the woman was bluffing, maybe there was really no one coming to kill them and she was here on her own.

**Then at last, a voice in the gloom**

**Seemed to cry "I hear you;**

**I hear your fears, **

**Your torment and your tears."**

Erik was becoming very impressed by the dance choreography of the song itself. It must have meant a lot of work for Zurie and Carrie but not too much for the lead male. He could not let his mind wander from what he had to focus on now however…

**She saw my loneliness**

**Shared in my emptiness**

**No one would listen**

**No one but her**

**Heard as the outcast hears…**

Erik could see that several members of the audience had been reduced to tears by the song. This was the intention he had when composing it, but to see it working gave him a feeling of pride. _Don't let your mind wander…_

**No one would listen**

**No one but her**

**Heard as the outcast hears…**

There was another standing ovation from the crowd as the song finished. Erik clapped as well, though was still focusing on where the accomplice could be…

WHAM! Erik felt someone kick him very hard in his back, forcing him onto the stage. People started muttering to each other. Clearly they thought that this was part of the Opera.

Then someone came onto the stage which made it quite clear that this was not part of the act. Crimson Nightshade was walking very slowly towards Erik, his blade drawn and pointed straight at him.

There were screams from all over the auditorium, people were getting out of their seats and running for their lives, obviously knowing at once who this person was.

"You look surprised Mr Destler…" He said to him, this unnerved him, no one but his family and close friends knew what his real name was. Erik had been thankful for putting on his mask while running to the dressing rooms before this had been said.

Erik reached for his gun, but then noticed that he did not have it. Crimson held it up in front of him. Erik had a feeling that this had happened to him before, yet he could not remember when.

He was not sure if it was just his imagination but he thought that Crimson was giving him a very meaningful look. He walked over to him and put the blade right up to his throat, Erik could see no way out of this.

"I thought I told you to wait for my signal!" A voice shouted at Crimson. Erik looked to see who the voice belonged to.

There was a man in a black cape, in a mask like no other Erik had ever seen in his life. It covered his head completely and shone bright white. "Since when did I ever do things your way?"

"Since I told you to Crimson!" The terrible figure shouted back. "What has gotten into you!?"

People were still screaming and trying to get out of the Opera House. "I don't know, perhaps I am just not feeling myself lately…"

He spun the sword round so that the hilt was facing Erik. Erik took it very quickly and got to his feet, just in time to see Crimson rush towards the figure and cross swords with him.

"I can tell you the problem…" Another voice said from behind Erik, he then turned round and was staring at the impossible, "…that is not me…"

He was looking at Crimson Nightshade, but it couldn't be Crimson Nightshade, he had just given him a sword and started fighting. The one that had just spoken looked very annoyed at the situation. He drew his blade and ran up to Erik, who only just parried a very strong attack in time.

Erik was trying to work everything out at the same time as fighting. _There are two of them…but that can not be right… if there were two of them there would have been more murders… _He ducked a swipe of Crimson's and kicked him in the chest, sending him crashing to the floor.

Erik looked round to see what the other Crimson was doing. This was a big mistake. He had only just seen him dodge a particularly nasty attack when he felt someone trip him up from behind.

The Crimson he had been fighting was getting ready to strike, but then out of nowhere came a dagger which hit him in the shoulder, stunning him for a moment due to the pain. Erik just about had time to see that the other Crimson had thrown the dagger and in doing so had saved Erik's life.

Erik tried to finish his attacker off, yet this was proving to be a very difficult thing to accomplish even thought he was wounded. After another minute of fighting Erik and his attacker heard a terrible scream from stage right. Forgetting that they were fighting for a moment they looked to see what had happened, they were looking at the figure in the bright white mask falling to the floor, quite clearly dead.

The Crimson that Erik was fighting tripped him up again and got ready to strike. The other Crimson came over just in time to prevent his death again. The fight which followed this was a very confusing one to watch, Erik found it impossible to tell which one was the Crimson that was on his side, and which was the Crimson not on his side.

He then noticed that the gun that had been taken from him was lying inches from him. Erik picked it up and took aim, yet it was impossible to know which one he was meant to shoot. They continued to fight, yet it seemed like they were both very skilled swordsman.

One of them took off their red cape so as to be able to manoeuvre easier. This seemed to do the trick for him as he managed to disarm his opponent shortly after doing this. Erik did not know whether he should shoot the one that was winning or not. He then saw something that let him know exactly what to do.

He shot the one who had no cape on, and there was silence in the auditorium. Erik got to his feet, not sure if he did the right thing. Walking over to the dead Crimson he soon found out however that he had done the right thing.

The Crimson who was alive got to his feet and turned to Erik, then removed his mask. "Sorry I attacked you earlier father, but I had to be convincing to draw him…" He pointed at the dead figure in black, "…out of his hiding place…"

Erik was trying to work out what the hell was going on. "Jake? You are Crimson Nightshade!?"

Jake laughed. "God no! Why do you think I was trying to help you, they were going to kill you as I am sure you found out!"

Erik thought his legs were going to give way if he stood up for much longer. "Where is Christine?" He asked him, still not sure whether he believed him or not.

"She is safe, come with me and I will show you…" Jake led Erik to the dining room.

When entering the room he saw Christine sitting there, in perfect health. She ran up to him and flung her arms round him. "Ok…" Erik began once they had let go of each other, "…time for you to explain!"

They sat down in the dining room chairs. "Wait a minute…" Jake said, "…there are some other people on their way who need to know what is happening…"

Erik removed his mask and waited. It took about fifteen minutes for everyone to arrive. These people included Carrie, Zurie, Madame Giry, Andrea, André, Firmin, Byron, Michel and Gladys Lemont. When everyone was sitting down, Jake began to explain, helped out by who appeared to be his boss.

"I have been leading a double life. In order to work for this organisation I needed to have two jobs. Unfortunately I got fed up with the 'cover up' job and quit it…" Was how Jake started, this caught everyone's attention, "…for a long time I have been working on the Draconosis case now, and finally it has come to an end…"

The door opened and some people who Erik assumed worked for the same people as Jake walked in, in their arms were the dead bodies of the woman in white, Crimson Nightshade and the figure in black. Everyone was keen to see who they were.

Jake got up and walked over to the woman in white and took off her mask. Madame Giry let out a gasp. She recognised who it was at once. "Clarissa…"

Andrea looked over at her. There was no doubt about it, the woman in the white coat was indeed Clarissa, whom she knew many, many years ago…

"She killed Meg… but why?" Christine asked to everyone, Madame Giry was the one to answer.

"She despised her when she was at the Opera house… if she had the opportunity to kill Meg then she would have taken it just like that." She clicked her fingers on the word 'that', then began to sob uncontrollably, "…spiteful bitch! Just because she has no family left she has to take away other peoples…"

Jake moved over to the figure in black and removed is mask. Nobody except Jake seemed to know who he was. "This is the great-great grandson of Gregory Grecone, who was the original founder of Draconosis. His name is Damian Grecone…"

This seemed to make sense to everyone, yet all of them really wanted to know who Crimson was. Jake moved over to him and carefully removed the highly decorated mask.

Everyone in the room let out a gasp. There, lying on the floor, was none other than the Opera Populaire's own Jean-Michel LeRoi…

"But why!?" Carrie, Firmin and André all cried together.

It was Jake's boss who answered this one. "He was leading a double life the second he set foot in the Populaire. He was the fourth conductor since Reyer retired, meaning he has not been here all that long…"

Jake continued, "…he was well placed for any assassinations that needed doing in the centre of Paris quickly he was the one to do it. Tonight he was to wait until Damian created a distraction, then he would kill Erik…"

Jake then held up the mask that he had removed from Jean to look through the eye holes. There were thin red lenses in each, which explained how his eyes always looked naturally red.

Everything seemed to be slotting into place. _I know he was the reason I got this job… _"All of the other conductors did not stay long because of the Opera Ghost, and he was ordered to stay here by his boss, right?" Carrie chirped in, Jake nodded at her.

"So is he actually a proper conductor?" Michel asked, still a little confused about this.

"We can only guess that he is… you see he tried to get a job as a conductor in many places, yet he gave up when he applied for his fifth one. Then one day out of the blue he applied for this place. Naturally he was accepted right away as the managers…" Jake gestured at André and Firmin, "…were becoming somewhat desperate."

"This can not be right!" Firmin boomed, realising something rather obvious, "He was conducting the orchestra so how could he be in two places at once!?"

"He wasn't…" Erik said to him, remembering something, "…he was not conducting during 'No One Would Listen', I did not think anything of it at the time I was too busy trying to look after Carrie…"

The doors opened yet again, and another dead body was brought into the room. "Thank you…" Jake's boss said to the people who brought it in, "…where did you find it?"

"At the base…" The two men replied, "…they had some sort of morgue there…"

They left. The body on the floor was that of Wraith. Jake went over and removed the mask that was still on his face. It was now Gladys' turn to gasp, as she was now looking at he husband.

"But I saw him die! I saw him…" She pointed at LeRoi, "…kill him."

"What you saw was staged…" Jake said, which sounded rather obvious, "…if you dug up your dead husbands coffin I am willing to bet that you would find a completely different person occupying it."

Gladys broke down and started crying on Madame Giry's shoulder. She could not believe that her husband was a member of a group of assassins.

"Where is the base?" Erik asked Jake, he assumed that he knew.

"Beneath the Eiffel Tower…" He replied, "…it was at the base that I was able to retrieve this…" He threw down the mask that he had worn during the fight onto the table, "…you see LeRoi always liked to carry round two masks, just in case he lost one. I was able to take this one after Damian staged LeRoi's death…"

This piece of information was new to everyone. "I was able to hear the conversation that they had. Damian wanted Clarissa, aka Glacier, dead. He sent her to try and kill you on his own knowing that she would fail. To do this though he had to make her believe that LeRoi was dead, as the two of them hated each other."

Everything was making sense now. "I think that is enough to leave them thinking about Jake…" His boss said to him, "…perhaps we should all get some sleep."

"You can stay here for tonight…" Firmin told all of them, "…we have enough spare rooms for you to do so."

"I will show you the way…" André said, Firmin looked as though he was going to help him.

"There is just one thing that I do not understand though…" Firmin began, "…who was the bloody mysterious detective that the police sent here?"

"Ah…" Jake's boss began, "…well, we decided to put him here when we started thinking that the Opera Populaire might be in danger. Good thing we did too, about a week ago we found Christophe Jones' body in the sewers. We had a team investigating his disappearance as soon as he 'resigned'…"

The managers started to lead everyone to their rooms. Erik decided that he would have a chat with them in the morning so as to apologise for everything that he had done in the past.

This cleared up just about everything and so everyone decided that it would now be best for them to get some sleep. "How long have you known that I was the Phantom?"

Everybody was filing out of the room when Erik asked Jake this. "Since Daroga was killed. You have to consider that we have had spies in Draconosis for a while now…" This made sense to Erik, "…now can I ask you something?" Jake asked Erik, "…how did you know who to shoot?"

Erik did not answer. He went over to LeRoi's body and pointed at his right arm. There at the top of it near his shoulder shone a 'D' which had been branded into his skin…

-

Draconosis was finished. The base which had been found was flooded to make sure that nothing survived. All of the members that were present in the base had been arrested and so there was no chance of them beating the police force which was sent down into the base. Erik was no longer wanted by the police, all the charges that he had accumulated over the years had been dropped due to his help in capturing the members of Draconosis. He strongly suspected that Jake had a lot to do with this.

There were no longer any secrets between anyone. Everyone now knew that Christine and Erik were married, meaning that they also knew Carrie and Jake were their Children.

Erik could not believe everything that had happened. He was standing in front of Daroga's grave, thinking. Then he said out loud, "…I did it Daroga, I stopped them…not single handed, but I stopped them." He walked up to the gravestone and put his hand on it, reading the words on the stone over and over.

Christine walked over to him from Meg's grave. "Well, at least we can say that our lives have been very eventful…" She said to him. They both laughed quietly.

"You know what…" Erik said to her, "…I think what I compose is not meant for the stage. It seems to be destiny's curse that my Opera's are meant for me, you, Carrie and Jake. No one else…"

Christine nodded in agreement. "So, the house in London is bought then?"

It was Erik's turn to nod. "I doubt Jake will be coming with us, this job of his seems to have him tied down to France and nowhere else…"

"I am sure he will come and visit at some point, and who knows, maybe your opera's will do better on stage's in London…" Christine said to him. She then she thought of something very important, "…I forgot to say…"

"Say what?" Erik asked curiously.

"Happy Birthday Erik…"

**THE END

* * *

Ok...this could take a while...**

**Characters I do not own**

**Erik Christine Andre Firmin Madame Giry Meg Daroga/Nadir Khan**

**Characters I do own (and some M owns as well)**

**Jake Carrie Michel Zurie Porsche, Minouche, Berlioz, Toulouse (The Cats) Byron Christophe Jones Gregory Grecone Damian Grecone Jean Michel-LeRoi Jennifer (Dance Teacher) Andrea Clarissa Anastasia Levian Jacques Lemont Gladys Lemont Samuel Frelques Members of Draconosis: Crimson Nightshade Fiora The Dark Messenger Glacier Wraith 'The Boss' Crystal**

**Title of the third book: 'The Celestial Forge'**

Hope you enjoyed it everybody, and now you can look forward to the third book!

R


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